Tomorrow, I am going to the American Embassy. It is one of the few places that can always manage to fill me with anxiety, because I feel like everything I can do there is wrong, and I will never be allowed to leave this country again, at least to go to America. I hope all goes well there.

The Embassy is tucked away on Queen St. behind a huge McDonald’s downtown ( I kid you not) and is across from the major downtown hotel, the British Colonial. Whoever decided to put the Embassy there (and/or the McDonald’s) clearly had a sense of humor and a rich appreciation for symbolic geography.

Once upon a time, people would camp out in front of the Embassy at 3,4am in the morning just to ensure a spot in the visa processing line, but now the Embassy gives out appointments, and you go at a special time. The Embassy tried to say that this shift was because the consular workers were distressed by the sea of humanity waiting outside in all types of weather, with no assurances of being seen that day, but we all know that the people were really a huge security risk, and after 9/11 they had to find a way of keeping things orderly.