god bless the usa and her affiliates in madrid

Identification is a funny thing. I went to get a room at a hostel and showed my Massachusetts driver’s license. The guy looked at me like I got it out of a cereal box. It kind of does look like it came out of a cereal box with its silly colorful background and special hologram on each one! Massachusetts is more concerned with underage drinkers making fake ID’s than preserving its dignity in an international setting. They ID without fail for credit cards here. My license is suspect but my expired UMass Boston ID that I brought to get student discounts is perfectly acceptable. After a week or so of this confusion, I decided I should renew my passport so I could feel normal. That and apply for a new visa, bank account and ID number.
The US consulate on the map in my Let’s Go guide was a classic building with a beautiful riverside location. Unfortunately it was from the Iberian Exhibition of 1919 and the functional office had been moved 25 years prior. That was fun. I walked to the normal office and was greeted by an elderly British woman who shared in my lamentations about the new office and location. She had loved the old one. It had so much character. The consular agent, however, the one with the power vested in him by the US government was in DC through the end of October. Once he got back it would be another three weeks to get the passport.
I decided to forgo the Sevilla office and go for the jugular: the embassy in Madrid. The AVE train costs 100 euro round trip and takes about two hours each way. On my flatmate’s advice I took the bus for 30 euro. I left Sevilla at 1130pm and arrived at Mendez Álvaro Madrid at 630am. I hopped on the Metro (which is clean and fast and has fun countdowns til the next train arrives and stops everywhere and trains go in every direction) and then walked up to the embassy at 730am. It was still dark and quite cold in Madrid, where it had been 80 farenheit in Sevilla the day before. Luckily my Italian flatmate, who had studied in England, told me I should bring a jumper. I was first in line for the consulate to open at 8am. No one who worked there was American, all Spaniards who spoke great English. I was out of there by 930. As soon as I was on the street I realized I had left my license in there. Whatever I’m done here I’m going home. And another 6+ hr bus ride back to Sevilla completed the ordeal.
That was a Thusday. The following Wednesday I got a call while I was on my break at school. The best I could understand they had something to deliver to me and wanted to know when I would be home. It was something from the embassy. Oh cool they are bringing me back my license, I thought. I told them I’d be home at five. Around six the Spanish equivalent of UPS delivered my passport and license. I have never been so impressed with the US government, nor so proud to be an American. I read through the new patriotic quotes on the pages while Merle Haggard’s “The Fightin’ Side of Me” brought a red white and blue tear to my eye.