Today was a good day.

I decided to take several hours off work today to be able to be with my dad after his surgery and to head downtown to accomplish the final step of my visa application process, the apostille for the FBI report. Aside from everyone collecting a small chunk of change from each of my encounters, I'm still not quite sure why all these steps (notarizing, notary authentication, and apostille) are necessary. Simple answer: bureaucracy. Anyhow, the point is I battled LA lunch-hour traffic to go downtown for the final apostille seal.

Today was one of the first real days of summer we've had in LA. My car thermometer read 96 degrees and as I was I about to roll up the windows and turn on the air conditioning as I made my way onto the freeway, but then I looked down and saw that my gas tank was in the red. Uh oh. I made it to downtown, found the building I was looking for, and then began my desperate search for reasonable parking. If there is one thing I really hate, it's paying for parking.

All the parking lots read $3 for every 5 minutes or something ridiculous along those lines, with flat rates starting after 4pm. I refuse to pay for that, especially knowing that I might have a long wait at the Secretary of State office. I found metered street parking, except they only let you park for an hour. I figured I would pay $3 for an hour of street parking, assess the situation, and run back/move the car, if necessary.

I walked into the stuffy apostille office and saw a HUGE line. I stood behind the last person only to see people staring at me, so I asked if I was at the end of the line. Someone told me I needed to get a number. It's amazing how words can really communicate so much more than blank stares. In any case, I grabbed a number, 315, and waited at the entrance of the stuffy office, fanning myself with the notarized, authenticated, soon to be apostilled paperwork. They called number 241. I was mentally calculating how much time until my number would be called--would I have to move my car before my number was called or while they were processing the document? As I was trying to figure all this out a man was walking towards the exit and stopped in front of me. I always attract crazy people so I tried not to make eye contact, but he continued trying to get my attention so finally I gave in. He held out his ticket and said, "I think my number will be called before yours." I accepted the number and managed to say a quick 'thanks' before he walked out the door.

I looked at the little stub of paper and saw my new number, 272. The numbers were being called pretty quickly and 272 was called within 20 minutes of my arrival. Within the 20 minutes I had arrived, I had already developed mini-relationships with my fellow linemates and offered my old 315 number to the guy behind me. I ran up quickly to the main desk where a young clerk told me I needed to fill out some form before he could process my request. I scribbled my name, address, and other relevant information and handed him my credit card. He told me my name would be called in 10-30 minutes and I asked if I could run to move my car. He looked at me and said that wasn't really an option, but if I could just wait a minute he would process it for me right then and there. And that is how the apostille process took me a total of 23 minutes.

I ran to my car, got in, rolled the windows down, and realized that my tank was on empty. Of course, gas stations in Downtown LA are pretty much non-existent. I start driving hoping I will find one, but to no avail. At this point I'm just hoping maybe the sensor is off and I have more gas than my car is letting on, but alas, as I enter the freeway the gas light goes off. That's how I knew I was really on empty and had about a mile or so left to find a gas station. I turned on the mileage counter and had already reached 0.7 miles and still no freeway exit was in sight. I'm sweating bullets, not only because of the near 100 degree heat, but also because I'm worried I will end up stalling in the middle of the freeway during LA rush hour. Thankfully I made it to the first exit and there was a gas station one block up. What a wonderful feeling to have a full tank of gas and be able to turn up the air conditioner on full blast.

I made my way back to the hospital and my dad was just recovering from a successful surgery. Notarized, authenticated, and apostilled documents in hand and a full tank of gas in my car, I couldn't ask for too much more. My mom and I were in the family waiting area when a lady came up asking if we would consider giving blood donations. I try to donate as often as I can and so I felt like fate had been so kind to me today that I should give a little back. And that's when I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day. The lady was pretty adamant about my giving blood that day, I guess they are desperate for donations, so she walked me down to the cafeteria and made sure I got something to eat. As I was being ushered into the cafeteria she asked what my name was because she was going to check up on me and make sure I went (at this point I started to question whether I was actually volunteering). I told her, "My name is Natalia." And then this young guy behind me said, "Natalia, you have a beautiful smile." I know that sounds weird and potentially awkward, but it wasn't at all and I was appreciative of the compliment. I ate and went to the Blood Donor facility.

The nurse pricked my finger to test my hemoglobin count, 12.2, 0.3 away from being eligible to donate. She asked if she could prick my finger again to see if we could get a different result (because like I said, they are desperate for blood...so if you can, donate!). Sure enough the second try a second later came out to 13.9. I donated my pint of blood and after some apple juice and cookies made my way back upstairs to the waiting room. My dad had been transferred to a room with a view of the Hollywood Hills in the distance. Not too shabby.

In any case, I'm exhausted from all the excitement of the day, but all in all today was a good day.