Did I mention our fingerprints are expired? You might think the idiotic things the government is accused of are often exaggerated. This is no joke...they sent us an approval for adopting from China which was good for 18 months. This approval is what is set to expire on 1/5/07 - hence our scramble to get in and out by the end of the year. The crazy part is that the same approval letter also included an FBI fingerprint clearance. In small type under the adoption approval is the notice that our FBI clearance was good for only 15 months. It expired in September. Normally people are home before either expire, so it's no issue. We are going in that 3-month window between expirations.
It's really a problem. They will not let us back into the U.S. with Keira without a renewed FBI clearance (fingerprints). No one told us our prints had expired until we got the referral notice around 11/30. Since then our agency has been trying to contact the USCIS (formerly INS) to get an urgent, rush appointment for fingerprints. Everyone was telling us that all we need to do is have our prints taken.
At our meeting with Xiaoqing Saturday, she said we could have them taken in Guangzhou, as a last resort. In any case, try to have them done here before you go, was her message to us. Andrea, our adoption agency director, finally spoke with Officer Erfan at USCIS who said to make a regular appointment online.
Booked appt for Monday - cancelled it because we didn't have details; rescheduled for Friday.
On Tuesday I told Xiaoqing we didn't go Monday, we are going Friday. She was very upset and concerned. "Why didn't you go yesterday? Friday is only one day before you leave. Can you try to go earlier?"
So I made an appointment for today, Thursday; there were no appointments for Wednesday.
This morning we arrived at the CIS office in San Jose. The first woman we spoke to just looked at us dumb and asked why we were there. When I explained that we need fingerprints for an adoption and we are leaving for China on Saturday she began to explain that what we need to do was mail in a request for a fingerprint appointment and they will send us an appointment letter. To which I began to strongly re-emphasize the "leaving on Saturday for China" part of my previous comment. At which point, the mother-to-be stepped in and diplomatically explained the whole thing, carefully and respectfully.
A supervisor overheard and asked a couple of questions. He understood what was going on and asked us who we spoke to, who our agency is, what both our names are and told us to have a seat.
We waited maybe 20 minutes. He came out with a referral letter to "go upstairs to room 219, window #2." We felt like we had said the magic words and a secret and mysterious door was just opened to us.
We went up the stairs, around a corner to room 219. Room 219 is cavernous, fluorescent lit room, with perhaps 50 or 60 chairs set up all facing two windows at one end. There was not a soul in the room. It was disturbingly silent. Window #1 and window #2 were both closed; no one was at either station. They were both made of mirrored glass through which we could see nothing. The holes in the glass through which one might talk were covered over with paper, from the inside. Nothing stirred on either side of the glass.
There was a six inch high opening at the bottom of window 2 along with a in-box tray. A sign on the window said, "Place your appointment sheet in the tray and have a seat."
"You've got to be kidding me." We just spent an hour getting our hands on this coveted ticket to Room 219; I'm not just dropping it into a slot, to be taken to that great government filing room where documents check in but they never check out.
So we sat, ticket in hand. Maybe the people downstairs are telling the keepers of Room 219 that they have visitors. Let's wait.
Kelsey and I alternated between laughing at the absurd cliche our morning at the CIS had already been and worrying that we will never get our fingerprints taken and Keira will be stranded in China.
Ten long minutes pass. Nothing behind Window #2. Then, a door on the other side of Window #1 opens. Brunhilda (or her cousin who works for Uncle Sam) stands in the doorway and looks at us curiously. She doesn't say a word, only looks at us. She doesn't cross the threshold but stays on the other side - looking at us.
"Are we supposed to talk to you?" I asked.
"I don't think so," Brunhilda mutters.
"Oh. We were sent up here with this appointment letter to talk to Officer Erfan."
"Let me see your paper."
I hand it to her knowing as soon as she sees our special ticket a smile will shine on her face and she'll invite us come in. Everything will be just fine.
Taking the paper she mutters, "OK, thank you," turns and disappears back into the bowels of bureaucracy, the door firmly shut and locked behind her.
Kelsey and I are left standing in the hollow Room 219, not a soul around, Windows #1 and #2 closed, and without our ticket.
Not knowing whether to laugh or be in shock, we quietly giggled and looked at each other with unbelieving eyes. "Now what?" was all we could ask each other as we sat back down.
Another ten minutes passed and a different woman came out to the large empty room. She bore a look of smug detached control that instantly screamed a sarcastic, "Good luck."
Though she never once introduced herself (control issues), we deduced she must be officer Erfan whom our adoption agency had spoken to. We told her the whole story and she just shook her head and clucked her tongue.
"Why didn't you come in two months ago? I've told your agency that urgent cases can come down in person. You are planning to leave this Saturday? There is no way we can have your prints cleared by then."
All this we knew already. We were there to have the prints done so they would clear in the first few days we are in China and all would be O.K. Even if there was a problem, we had be assured by Xiaoqing that we could have our prints taken at the US Consulate in China as a last option.
Then officer Erfan dropped the big one, "You cannot have your prints taken at the consulate. We have had several couples leave before their prints cleared only to have to fly back to the States to retake them because they were not legible. You are taking a big risk. Are you sure you want to still fly in two days?"
What is wrong with this woman? Of course we are still going in two days; our baby is waiting for us.
"OK, I'll write you a referral to the office on the other side of San Jose where you can have your prints taken. But, you're taking a big chance."
She leaves. "Was that officer Erfan?" "Yeah, it must be."
Enter officer Wu, works for Erfan.
Officer Wu had a different attitude than officer Erfan. Wu genuinely wanted everything to work out. She gave us the appointment sheet so we could have the fingerprints taken that day. When we explained that we were leaving the next day for China she promised to fax me the results to my eFax number so I can know the outcome even in China. She would also mail the results to Kelsey's mom. Finally, the results would automatically be sent electronically to the US consulate in Guangzhou. The only problem would be if the prints were not usable for some reason. Then, we'd have to have them retaken. We asked her about having them taken in China. Contradicting her supervisor, Officer Wu said that it is up to each consulate overseas as to whether they will take fingerprints. There was still a chance.
We went across town to have the prints taken. The computer system makes an initial estimation regarding the quality of the prints as each one was taken. Both Kelsey and I had several prints that the computer identified as marginal. So we are really worried that there will be problems with the prints. Now we head to China and just pray for the best.