In short, it takes:
- International travel within two weeks
- $130 plus an extra $60 expedite fee
- 360 miles of driving
- 10 gallons of gasoline
- $22 in road tolls
- $28 in parking fees
- Over seven hours sitting in a car
- Time spent in lines
- Time spent in waiting rooms
Because it normally takes 9 weeks or more to renew your passport, and I am traveling to Kenya in less than two weeks, it required a visit to the nearest Passport Service Center. Detroit is the nearest one, but they didn’t have any appointment times open for today so Chicago was the next choice.
I called the center last week and they told me that I had to call back within two weeks of travel. Otherwise they won’t talk. I then told them that I needed a visa for Kenya. Since the appointment period for a visa is 28 days, suddenly I had an audience and an appointment. So I set it for the earliest possible day at the latest possible time: today at 11:30am. That would get me away from rush-hour traffic and a reasonable start time.
We left home just before 9am. The trip was uneventful, save for the pouring rain. Yesterday was beautiful, we were hiking outside in the sunshine, today, not so much. Probably a good day for sitting in a car.
We found a parking spot a couple blocks away from the government building in Chicago, which is smack in the middle of the concrete abyss known as downtown. The parking was nearly $21 for three hours. I had no idea how long it would take so I booked three hours.
We arrived at the lobby of the building at 11am. The guy checking us in told us to go to the cafe on the second floor and wait until 11:15am, and then go to the ninth floor for the appointment. You are not allowed to arrive more than 15 minutes early and when we got into the waiting area later, we could see why.
After going through something very similar to airport security, we went to the cafe, which was a good distance down a couple long, empty, narrow hallways. There is no loitering in the hallways allowed, the guards at the doors will call you out if you so much as stop putting one foot in front of the other, so we always felt like we were trying to hide somewhere out of sight of the guards. The cafe, the bathroom, or around the corner by the elevator, if we emerged from any of these areas, we were in danger of being reprimanded.
The actual Passport Service room is a rather large room with about 20 service windows, all covered in bulletproof glass. The room was rather full when we got there and the officer standing near the door motioned us to stand in the first queue. If there was any gaps in the people in the queue, they would tell us all to pack it in a little tighter. No Covid social distancing protocol here. Pack 'em in like sardines.
The National Park Service should take note. They are still sticking to Covid protocols even though they have more space than all other government functions.
15 minutes or so in this first queue brought us to the check-in window, where I handed over all my paperwork. They typed a bunch of stuff into the computer, handed the paperwork back, and gave me a slip with a number on it. My place in line. Looking at the room, I was thinking to myself This could take a while.
I had just left the window when I heard my number being called. The guy at Window Number 6 took all my paperwork and my old passport, took my payment of $190, and told me it would be ready between 2 and 4pm. He handed me a receipt.
Wow, that was easier than I expected. I looked around at all the other poor sots slumped in the two hundred chairs in the waiting area. Wonder what they are waiting for...
Now we had a few hours to kill.
Deb had done a little looking around beforehand and found a Frank Lloyd Wright house about 10 miles away on the campus of the University of Chicago. We’ve toured a few of these around the country, and this was one of the larger ones. We bought tickets online and drove down there, arriving just in time for the tour, or so we thought. Turns out all the clocks we were looking at were still on Michigan time, so we were an hour early. We managed to get our time slot moved up a half hour and then walked to a nearby bakery we found on Google Maps. A half mile walk through the university and we arrived at the address, which appeared to be nothing more than a frat house or college housing. So much for a mid-afternoon snack.
The tour of the Robie House was great, Frank Lloyd Wright never ceases to impress with his architectural style, although this house wasn’t quite as interesting as others we have been to because it is mostly devoid of furniture. A few examples of his furniture were scattered here and there, but most rooms were empty.
This house had a similar story to several others we have been to. House is built for a prominent family who sells it to someone else. In this case, the Robie’s live here only a year before selling it. House changes hands a couple times and eventually gets sold to a business or other entity and gets used for non-residential purposes. This house was sold to Chicago Theological Seminary for use as a dormitory and a dining hall. Most of the furniture was removed or destroyed and a lot of the architectural features were destroyed during this time. The house went into disrepair and was slated to be torn down in 1958 when Wright himself stepped in, along with students and organizers, and fought to preserve the house. The house was designated a Chicago landmark in 1971 and efforts to restore it began in 2002.
Finishing this, we drove the 20 minutes or so back downtown, found some street parking for seven dollars and went back to the government building. We went through the same security, but this time they made us take off our shoes. And one guard picked up my keys, removed the little pocketknife I always have on me, and told me this wasn’t allowed.
“Can I just leave it at the door and pick it up when I get out?” I asked him.
“Can’t do that,” he told me. “But you can leave the building and hide it in that light pole across the street. We’ll jump you in line when you come back in.”
He escorted me to the door, and I jaywalked across the street. Said light pole had a panel missing at ground level, so I threw the knife in there, ran across the street again, and removed my shoes a second time for another pass through security.
I've lost several pocketknives to airport security. It sounds like I have a good chance of getting this one back. Its time had not yet come.
On the way up the elevator, Deb told me they were giving her a hard time because loitering was not allowed. She finally stood in a short connecting hallway between the incoming security checkpoint and the exit security where she couldn’t be seen. You go off-script in these government buildings and they will go into anaphylactic shock.
Up in the passport room it was the same story, although the entry queue was empty. I handed over my receipt, got my number and Deb and I sat down to wait for it to be called.
From our position, we overheard a woman pleading with someone behind the bulletproof glass. She had come in by train from St. Louis, a five hour trip, and had a flight the next day. They couldn’t tell her when her passport would be available so she could not book a return ticket and was at risk of missing her flight. A rather unfortunate situation. I felt sorry for her. I at least still have a couple weeks before my flight leaves.
My number was called after about twenty minutes of waiting. The guy at the window handed me the new passport, had me verify the information and sign a form, returned all my paperwork, and wished me a good day.
Out on the street, I jaywalked again to the other side and retrieved my pocketknife from the light pole. I could see a couple other pocketknives in there, so this must be standard operating procedure for this place when dealing with contraband. I half expected to find a Glock hidden behind the wiring.
We returned to the car and made a beeline for Michigan, hoping to get out of Chicago before rush-hour started. We were successful and were grateful to get out of the concrete jungle where we could actually see some sky.
We stopped on the way home at one of our favorite travel restaurants, Silver Beach Pizza in St. Joe. Twenty minutes before arriving, we called in a take-out order, picked it up, and ate it in the nearby county park, overlooking Lake Michigan. Typical Michigan gray skies and gray water, but there were a few brave souls out walking their dogs and one guy in waders in the water, casting a fishing line.
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