As noted on the moblog, yesterday I went to the American Embassy in Tokyo to pick up Kaika’s U.S. passport, which we applied for three weeks ago. Being able to skirt by the ridiculously long line of non-U.S. citizens waiting for visa interviews and the like and getting in and out of the embassy in 10 minutes while they undoubtedly waited hours, I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d feel if our situations had been reversed. How would I view the American that today was me, with the undoubtedly smug expression of someone on the right side of the fence who just waltzed in the gate, through the security check, inside to do his business, and back out again, with me all that while having only moved one or two steps forward in the queue?
I wonder how those people would feel were they to know that I often take the passport I carry for granted, and indeed occassionally find myself wondering if it’s so worth having anymore. Instead of seeing those unseeable things, they see what can only be seen as arrogance and I wonder if there isn’t a bit of dread that creeps into their thoughts, that commingles with admiration, and inflects their anticipation of getting through that gate, past those barricades, through the interviews and forms, and eventually on to American soil, with a question: exactly what kind of place am I going to, and is it really worth all this to get to?
