The rest of the line story:

And then a second booth opened its shutters, and in that one something was actually done before transferring us to yet another line (still in the same room) - they took our fingerprints. You had to put your right forefinger on that instrument that had red light coming out from it, and if you peaked to the computer's screen of the embassy employee in front of you, you could see your finger print over it. Then you had to repeat it with your left hand. It was much more useful and much less messy then filling a paper with pencil marks, smearing the finger all over the black dust and then putting on it the sticky side of a cellotape, the way we used to do it in grade school.

And then we waited in yet another line (the third in the same room, with the security guards mostly explaining which line ends where and whom you should stand behind and trying to use the polls-and-ropes in the most clear way possible), for the final (and most important part) - the interview. This was the one part of the whole process that wasn't just bureaucracy changing hands. A girl that was a couple of places ahead of me in the line got her application rejected, in fact. The thing is, they want to make completely sure that you intend to only travel, take a visit, and not under any circumstances stay in the USA. They're looking for as many things as possible to prove that you have what to return for. That you have - in the way they phrased it - strong enough connections to Israel, to not stay (and, say, look for work illegally) anywhere else.

So I said that yes, I'm a PhD student, and yes, I'm in the middle of it, and in fact I just got my research proposal approved, and it happened so soon that I only now have the paper for it and I didn't get a chance to attach it to the whole application and would you like to see it? and no, I have no idea what I plan on doing once I finish. And I'm going to be in LA and NYC, and I'm going to visit friends (Hi, Allyson, that's you, with your name on the application form and everything!), and no, that friend isn't Israeli, she's a USA resident and was never here. And, no, I don't have relatives there, and yes, I would be delighted to leave my passport with you and get it back through my travel agent, hopefully with an approved visa.

And then I was out. All in all, an hour and a half of standing, and I was afraid it was going to be much worse (people told me about standing for days, but the line being so long that their turn didn't even get a chance to arrive on that day, and they had to return the following one and wait then, too). And the fact that they took my passport is a good sign, I was told. I mean, the poor girl who was told that her application was denied was told so on the spot. And I'm supposed to know in three days.

This is all becoming very real now. Deciding on dates and finding a ticket and making plans and all. Oh, my.

This is very exciting!

Nilly! Yay!!!!

Also, I love how you write. You should publish your story of the Embassy of Lines. Like:

A line to be proud of.

It was a line to tell stories about.

Really. Those are fantastic!

Heh.

I see they were preparing you for the US. Where our bureaucracy is even less efficient...!

And there are more lines which are less well managed...

I like the idea of the staff sitting around and wondering "Do you think that light is flattering the line? Maybe if we put it over there? No, that's not it. There?"

Nilly's one step (and several long lines) closer to being in the US!!!!

Yay!

Yay Nilly! My fingers are crossed for you.

This is very exciting!

Oh, yeah.

Thanks, Teppy. I amused myself through the wait with all these descriptions, so it's good to know I'm not the only one amused.

The Israeli version of bureaucracy is find somebody "on the inside" that you know, or that knows somebody that you know, and try to use that in order to push through the line. Either that, or just simply try to push through the line. Somebody seemed like he was trying to do something like that (on another booth, with a much shorter line - I think it was that of "Problems"), and it seemed like it failed quite loudly (most of the employees in the reception booths were not Israelis. The guards, however - all Israelis).

I like the idea of the staff sitting around and wondering "Do you think that light is flattering the line? Maybe if we put it over there? No, that's not it. There?"

I like ita's version.

And thanks, all, for being happy for me. I really appreciate it. Updates to follow.

That's a simply wonderful story. All embassies should be the sources of such stories.

The people at the embassy seem to be concerned most with the creation of lines, arranging them nicely, and once they're satisfied, moving them to some other place in the room, to see how they look in there.

Am I mistaken, or was Nilly almost slightly just-a-little sardonic there? America is already corrupting her!

Nilly, that's a great story. I especially loved how the "Those...etc." bit got shorter and shorter.

Three days!