My little latin love story, Part 9 of ...

September 11, 2001 at about 7:30am MST. I turned on the television for the morning news as I did every morning before I went to work. I liked to listen to the strange crimes that go on and make fun of the TV anchors that tried to be funny and all they had to report on was a sale at some store in Salt Lake. Some might say I’m a little psychotic, but I was happy that something interesting was happening in the world. I was fascinated by the reactions of the news media. Astounded by the footage. I marveled at the story of a couple that clasped their hands before jumping from the tower. I wasn’t really hurt or saddened until that night when my mother mentioned that the hijackers were immigrants and that it would probably have an affect on Mili’s case. That is when I became worried and angry.

I like it when companies put radio stations on their hold music. You get a variety to listen to. The INS doesn’t. After two hours on hold to the INS, I learned that they repeated the same music and message every fifteen minutes. I even began to say the message with the machine when it came on. I don’t even know why I called the INS. I had called them a few times throughout the process and I always came to the same conclusion; that conclusion was that the people working in the call center probably don’t even know whom they work for or what they are suppose to do. This time I wanted to know how September 11 was going to affect my case. As usual, they didn’t know.

Luckily the government has a speed all it’s own. They passed the US PARTIOT ACT (it seems like the only thing they are quick about is taking away our civil liberties) quickly enough but then they really didn’t know what to do with themselves, other than collect their paychecks. So no major changes happened until after Mili came to the US.

After all her paperwork and exams were done the US embassy gave Mili an appointment for an interview for the last week in October. We were delighted. I happily spent forty dollars just to talk about how this whole nightmare might be coming to an end.

I anxiously waited the day of her interview at work watching my e-mail for the news on when she was going to be able to come. All I got was “I’m not going to be able to come.” I called, I wrote and no answer. Two days later I was a basket case. I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t know what to do. I even called in sick to work. So I did what I always do to escape reality, I played video games.