Day 2, Part 1: Immigration

I didn’t anticipate having this much to say about Iceland already. I had aimed for two to three posts a week, but if every day is as eventful as this one, you’re going to block me before the month is over.

Please don’t though.

The short version is, I went to the Directorate of Immigration, student services at the university, church, and an art museum. I also learned why alcohol here is so expensive. Hint: it’s because government ruins everything.

The long version starts with the longest part of my day. I don’t know why I didn’t expect a line at a government agency*, but I didn’t. I was surprised to find 30 people in line ahead of me at the Directorate of Immigration– which is a mere one minute walk from my hostel, by the way. It’s almost disappointing since Reykjavik is so nice to walk around in.

*I apologize for the unexpected frequency of anti-government statements in this post. Not in general, just on this blog. You didn’t sign up for that.

This episode features a few new players in their breakout roles: the Land Wight Lady, Mr. Over-Confident, the Unsub, and Hot Cop. Here’s what happened.

Shortly after I arrived, a man came striding in like he owned the place. Mr. Over-Confident confidently pulled the push door, then he stalked inside, took a number, whipped around, pushed the pull door, and left. “Don’t worry,” he’d probably say, “You haven’t seen the last of me.” He seemed like the kind of person who automatically assumes you want to see him again, if only to admire his rugged good looks from afar. But I had eyes only for Hot Cop, so he immediately left my mind after I texted the Fam Jam group chat about the Mr. Over-Confident vs. the Door tussle.

Not realizing that I had to take a number, I went up and grabbed one. Shortly thereafter, a woman with beautiful hair and cool matte-grey glasses locked the door and stood in front of it. The Land Wight Lady. (If you don’t know what a land wight is, consult this previous blog or just google it. I shouldn’t have to do everything for you.) It turned out that they just stop taking people after noon, which is fair since, as the last person with a ticket, I didn’t get out until 1:30. So she stood there, the guardian of the directorate, letting people out and no one in. Several people were turned away by Land Wight Lady, including a pack of Mormons. I mean, I knew I was going to see Mormons here eventually– I think I am somehow a Mormon magnet because they follow me everywhere– but seeing them on my second day here seemed kind of soon. Even for me.

So I continued to wait in line. For another 20 or 30 minutes, nothing happened; just a lot of bored people sitting in a room, staring at each other, and trying really hard not to make eye contact on accident. Then Land Wight Lady left, and the police came.

They tried to open the door, but it was locked. A few of us looked at each other, but none of us opened it. We feared the Land Wight Lady. We knew her authority, we had seen her in action. What were these cops to us? The Land Wight Lady was respected. Feared, maybe. I felt myself beginning to imprint on her like an orphaned duckling. I love her.

She returned shortly and opened the door. Two officers walked in and smoothly placed themselves on either side of the Unsub, known up until this moment only as number 32. Two more officers followed and planted themselves behind the first wave. This is where Hot Cop comes in.

Hot Cop’s saga here is short: he is hot, and he is a cop. I will never watch a baseball game the same way again, now that every baseball booty will be compared and found inferior to Hot Cop’s.

The Unsub was escorted out by three cops plus Hot Cop, quite confused, and they stopped outside to talk to him. He got angry. He was speaking English, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. When Hot Cop returned and spoke briefly to Land Wight Lady, I had two simultaneous thoughts: “I have never regretted not knowing Icelandic more now that I can’t eavesdrop,” and, “I hope Mother approves.”

Meanwhile, as the cops were still chatting with the Unsub, Mr. Over-Confident came stalking back and attempted to open the door. Land Wight Lady shook her head. He looked baffled and affronted. He stomped away and returned a minute later with Hot Cop. Land Wight Lady spoke briefly to him and did not let Mr. Over-Confident in. He pulled out his number ticket and pointed at it aggressively. Hot Cop walked away, because he knows his role and he knows Land Wight Lady outranks probably everyone in the country. She spoke to Mr. Over-Confident; I don’t understand exactly what said to him, but I believe the gist of it was, “You don’t get to leave and then come back in, you asshole.” I cheered silently in my head. I imagine others did, too.

But back to the Unsub. I don’t really know what happened. I know the police spoke to him for around 10 minutes, and then he left. His car was behind theirs, and he almost made a BOLD attempt to pull around them, but he decided against it. Probably because he couldn’t fit. But I think that’s for the best, since he almost certainly would’ve gotten a ticket. Which leads me to my next announcement: When you see me turn to a life of crime, it’s not because I became a delinquent. I’m only trying to reconnect with my one true love. Goodbye for now, Hot Cop.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Iceland Day 2, coming soon.



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