7/26 Woke up in the early morning hours with sudden, urgent concerns why it seemed almost impossible that I’d get my passport later this same day so that we could fly tonight. My lost passport had come from the agency in Philadelphia, and could I really assume that any agency in the country, in this case New York, could re-issue this passport? This would imply that for example the photos would have to be in some sort of federally accessible computer system already. Also, the original of my naturalization certificate was now in Philadelphia – would this have any bearing on my elgibility for getting a passport from New York?

My nerves were a wreck, and with three other people sleeping in my apartment, I resorted to walking up and down the outside corridor for what must have been almost two hours. I then tried to get passport photos early on a Friday morning in Manhattan. The streets, having quited down over night, were slowly coming back to life as some cool air moved gently through them. The CVS at Amsterdam and 86th, supposedly open 24 hours, had a hastily written note in its door saying that it was closed and one should go to 42nd street instead. I went back home, turned on the kitchen light and hoped it would not disturb the sleeping children a few feet away too much. I filled in the form I was supposed to fill in, then got my stuff and, after checking Google, tried the CVS at Columbus Circle (57th), only to be told that photos would not be taken until 8, but my appointment at the agency was already at 8. Tried the Duane Reade across the street, where the cashier did not even understand the word passport photo and said no.

I walked down another ten blocks to a CVS at 49th, and was told the photo person would come at 7, in 10 minutes. I witnessed the weirdest wake-up activity in that CVS, which is actually pretty massive, with two full floors, and apparently a shift of security workers, or renovation workers, coming in, among which I waited for my passport photo person. The picture looked just a anemic as you’d expect when someone has slept barely two hours.

So I took an Uber to the passport agency, where, behind metal barricades, lines were already forming outside the building at 7.30. It was a peculiar contrast between the disarray, if not, in places, desparation of the people lining up, the shoddiness of the government building, including the heavily scratched foggy plexiglass barriers. and the efficiency with which applicants were processed, the knowledge of the workers about even obscure situations like mine, and the definitiveness of their answer – yes of course, we have same-day service. I was given a pick-up time of 2pm, five hours later, and at that time I could indeed pick up my passport, a full one with ten-year validity, and the entire multitude of security holograms encasing my picture, the one I’d sent to Philadelphia.