The PO

9

''See, them man there ain't worth your time baby, don't waste your wine, yeah. Pour a drink, baby, take your time, baby, don't waste your wine.'' - B Young (Wine)

Valentine special

Travis's point of view.

My parole ended today. Last night I took some Xanax and had some drinks with Ocean, Panasonic, to celebrate. The last thing I remember was her complaining about her friends and then I blacked out. I woke up at around 11 am because I had to pee. I must've fallen at some point during the night because my knee was scraped. Caes was supposed to pick me up at 11 am and drive me to immigration so that I could apply for my visa.

I went downstairs, didn't see his car or him so I got breakfast while I waited. Walking out of the restaurant I saw his car parked in front of my apartment. When I got in the car he said, "You smell like alcohol." 

"I went drinking last night to celebrate the end of my parole/probation. Got decently sloshed too. I brushed my teeth but I think I'm sweating alcohol out of my pores." I chuckled and as did he. I noticed a quiet T in the back and greeted him. It didn't take long before we were outside the immigration.

At immigration the lady was talking to me about something or other, I had to excuse myself to go throw up in the restroom. Upon my return she told me I need a passport picture, there's a place to take it in the basement of the building next door. Also, I need a print-out of my plane ticket there's a printer at the 711 across the street. I wish they would have told me this sooner, I would have come prepared. It's annoying enough when I'm sober. Hungover and hazy it's a bitch and a half.

There was a lady operating the Photo Booth in the building next door, she must have been getting annoyed with me because she had to keep retaking the pictures. "Your eyes are too small." "Open your eyes." "Stop chinning the camera." "Why can't you take a normal picture?"

Back at immigration, I filled out a form and the lady told me that I would need to go to the immigration administration building to talk to the officer in charge of my case directly. Fucking aye. I didn't even feel like calling Sabrina right now.

In the car with Caes, I was just venting. Annoyed with this whole thing. I checked the time and it was actually flying. 

 "This is such a bitch." 

At the immigration administration building the person supervising my case is the lady who picked me up from the prison. She asked to see my passport and paperwork. Then, I went through an interrogation. "Do you work?" 

"No. I'm not allowed too, I don't have a visa." I sighed at her, obviously, she knew this so what was the point of her asking? What was I getting a visa for then?

"Do you have family here?"

 "Yes."

"How are you getting to the airport?"

 "Are you fucking serious? What kind of question is this?"

 "I have to ask these questions, it's standard." 

"Either my family will drop me off or I'll take the subway, I haven't decided yet." 

"What do you do every day?" 

"Nothing." 

"That's not an answer." 

"Fine. I read and I write, I watch TV, I hang out with my friends and family. I'm just chilling still." 

"Must be nice.

After she filled out my form for me she led me to an interrogation room where I was fingerprinted and had a photo taken. I saw the dossier they had on me, they had a photo from the airport when I was arrested and a photo when I was released from prison.