A Gay Old Migration Agent

In the energy-sapping heat of Australia's first week of summer, I have done nothing but photocopy, print, and put things in those slippery sleeve thingies that go in notebooks when you're being particularly organized. Why? Because of our upcoming immigration interview, of course. But there's another reason: a gay old migration agent.

Last weekend, we went to see a guy in Paddington who is a friend of a friend of the girl's or something like that. We figured we'd take what we thought was a brilliantly compiled set of papers and documents signed by a

JP to make sure everything was in order. We were told that this higher up in the Queensland Gay Immigration Task Force would find many things that we missed and we'd be better off. Well, I didn't believe it. We were ready.

And so was he. This 70-year-old lover of live theatre greeted the girl at the door with excitement. I'm pretty sure he has more energy than I do. Then he looked at me and paused (this is a girl?) with a quick glance at my chest as he took my hand for a shake. Okay, he must have then said to himself, I should kiss her, too. So he did. Flustered. Jesus.

We walked through the door and I scanned his unorganized house that was covered on the outside by trees in which I'm sure many different species of spiders resided. There were piles of paper everywhere, as well as gifts that he showed us from others like us seeking his help. And we only brought scones.

When we sat down, he took one look at our little file box and pretty much discounted it out of hand.

"You can't go looking through it like chooks pecking for food," he said, as he brought over a notebook full of those sleeve things that contained official-looking documents. "You'll need a relationship timeline and an index of the contents of the notebook. That excited me a little bit, and I told him it would satisfy the editor in me. But that waned, because, basically, we had done very little correctly.

He started off by describing the setting. The girl and I would be next to each other across from a government official who would be watching how we interact. I'm thinking maybe one wink and perhaps a kiss every ten minutes should do. Oh, and we'll be sure and hold hands for lengthy periods of time.

The pictures we selected weren't good enough. Silly me for thinking pictures of the girl and I wouldn't do. They have to show that people actually know us. So we would have to include only about 10, he said, that included other people in the pictures with us. Fine.

What else? Basically everything else. This wasn't in the right place. That wasn't necessary. Do you have this? No? This? Sigh. I'm thinking he thought we were fairly imbecilic, despite my telling him we really were pretty organized. I've got boarding passes for every flight she and I took, including our respective visits for fuck's sake. So we're organized. Just not how they need us to be. I hate that.

This week, then, has been full of organizing. I've already blown through a brand-new black ink cartridge, but they're getting everything. Everything. And our friendly agent will be signing it all this Saturday because he is also a JP. Convenient. And the best part, it is all free.

I'm pretty much almost done with it all, but I'm sure there will be a sleepless night before Monday where I'm cross-checking this with that so as to make them happy. I'm actually more concerned with making our new friend happy.

When it was all said and done, we sat back and talked about theatre after he saw our ticket stubs from shows we went to in New York when the girl visited me last year. We discussed our mutual admiration for Angela Lansbury, Cabaret, Chicago, and Sweeney Todd.

I'm ready for this to be over, though I have to admit it's not that bad. I'm just hoping I can check my attitude at the door and turn into a yes-woman. I hope I can refrain from explaining that their checklists are incomplete and that I didn't know until last week that the Australian Federal Police needed to clear me, too. Our new friend said if I'd have that, then I'd walk away with temporary residency on the spot. I don't believe him. I won't have my clearance by then anyway. Nothing I can do about that now.

Either way, my life will change again after Monday. I'll have work rights and will be able to send resumes, though I probably won't do that until January when we're (finally!) in Sydney. And that would be thanks to the girl scoring a job in a Sydney hospital that starts at the beginning of February. As part of that, she's getting her master's, too. It's a little program thing. Pretty sweet.

So where shall I work? I'm hoping for ABC.net.au. Or maybe Cricket Insider magazine. Or one of those airplane rags. I plan on sending an endless amount of resumes, whether there are jobs available or not. I want to start making money again so I can buy things. And save it, too.