Chapter 11

I would like to say I was back to work Monday ... I wasn’t. Immigration wanted to speak to us. Mr. Mike was not happy. “The American Ambassador should be in...” Immigration looked at his watch... “Hell’s bells. He’s late. Let me check.”

The conversation to “little America” went on and on and on. At least I think so. I was waiting in the waiting room. Now I understand the god awful seats. If you get uncomfortable enough ... you leave. And just as I was gathering my things to do that, the door opened and my Immigration officer stormed out.

“It is with great regret that I must inform you that the President of the United States of America denies your existence. ‘Ain’t she dead?’ is what the Ambassador said.”

“Who did they get?”

“The Speaker of the House.”

“He’s not even of the same party. I’ll bet mom is jumping in her grave.”

“About that, the reason my little conversation with the Ambassador took so long ... He’s been recalled. No, no ... it’s not your fault. The new president is replacing ALL the Ambassadors and the new ones are providing their own staffs. It’s a common practice. The present man can’t leave until the new one gets here. And who knows when that will take place.

“As I was saying, about your mom ... Sultry Wench?”

“Yup ... Sultry Wench Flintkote ... very descriptive. It’s a southern thing.”

“It’s my understanding that they didn’t find enough to bury.”

“How about the President?”

“Closed Casket with honors. Vice President was the next caisson back. He was former military.”

“My dad?”

“Closed also. Arlington in the Medal of Honor section. The Secret Service took care of its own. Who knows What they did with the rest of the staff.”

“Where does this leave us?”

“Wanna be a Kiwi?”

Well ... that was a surprise. Did I? Do we? I better get to work.

It’s a ferry ride to the doorstep or a hike from the Upper Harbour Motorway... 4 kilometer walk?... 2 hour boat ride ... walk ... ride ... the ferry is right next door ... Ride!

<Were you really contemplating the walk?>

The boss was waiting for me to step off the ferry.

“At the beck and call of the government my ass.”

“Immigration called?”

“YES! Sorry. I had no idea. Mike is pissed. Get your young ass to work.”

I didn’t even stop to apologize. I hoofed it.

I dressed for it and made for the finishing room door. Mike was in a paint suit spraying lacquer on a series of dish lockers. I never said a word ... just stepped to the polishing space and went to work. It was assholes and elbows until the big boss flickered the lights. Hint!

We stepped out the pressure door. I went to my locker, Mike went to his. We changed. Finally he looked at me.

They say the best defense is a good offense ... I gave him my best Mom look. I know it’s a good one ... I saw it often enough. He blinked first.

“What is it about you?” he asked. “You have been the best finisher I’ve ever had ... I’m thinking you are better at it than me. And you’re generally reliable. Reliable enough I organized a day off with my girlfriend. I worked over Saturday so you would have enough to do today ... And the government calls and demands ... demands ... your presence at their headquarters. What did you do?”

“I got coerhersed into taking the boat out to a sandbar party Saturday. Nearly got the three of us killed Saturday night.” I said.

“Aw, come on. I was at that party ... I saw your sister ... I didn’t see you.”