You may think that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but believe me, it takes only a trip to your regional passport office, to think otherwise, and count your blessings, however miserable you may consider your life to be.
Early-morning, a bleary-eyed you, make your way to the scheduled place, and find to your dismay, a sea of humans who have beat you to waking up in the morning, and can be seen milling around, all looking equally grumpy and sleepy.
Fighting an urge to dispel the frown that has slowly spread on your face, you try to plunge into the queue, saving yourslef from sharp elbows, and even sharper tempers of people who are awaiting their turn.
you can hear people whispering in your ears how they can get your passport issued / re-issued with just some extra money.
Blah.
Touts.
Fighting off their whispered advances, you weave your way through the crowd; after that last burst of energy, a good three hours later, you make your way to the blessed counter to take your token from an oily-looking babu.
just when you think that you can finally join the alarmingly-long line outside, post-collecting the token that is, the oily-looking babu looks you over (shudder), gives an orange-grin, and utters the dreaded words, "Problem."
Your face takes on that ashen look; and after hearing his monologue about rules, lawas, and the like, you make your way back glumly; your work undone.
That's what happened to me.
And no, I can't help the scowl.
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