Passport Smashport

Where were we?

I'm at the Western Passport Center. I'm being informed that I indeed have enough time to get a standard expedited passport and have a few days to spare.

Now, I believe I have demonstrated through this body of text that I do indeed have the capacity to fuck up, despite my surecockedness about how awesome I am. At this point, I've figured this out. I tell the man behind the bulletproof glass that I would like a little more wiggle room than that. He says that he has people here that are leaving the country in 3 days, why should he clog up the system with one that can potentially wait.

At this point, I'm getting pretty sick and tired of people telling me they won't do something. I tell him the truth, "Look, man, I think I got everything figured out, but I've thought that before and been wrong. You know and I know that things often don't go as planned and often times there's hitches and hiccups. I can't be doing this last minute. I've had a hell of a week, and I just need a win man. Things have just been falling apart, and I'm to blame for some of that, but you can help make my week better. I need this win. Just help me out, please."

He takes all my papers, straightens them all out, and says, "You'll have your passport by Saturday." Speach Skill level up!

"AT MY HOME!?" He looks at me a little sideways, "Yes, in your very own mailbox, so is that check or card?"

"Cash, I don't have a card that works right now."

He looks at me, "Guess you have had a rough week."

If it wasn't for the 1.5 inches of bulletproof glass between us I would have kissed that man. As it was I left there with hope. The 2008 presidential campaign had nothing on this feeling. I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least I had fire.