10 days to go.

Last night I went with some friends to clueQuest, a live escape game in London. We were thrown together in a room, and given 60 minutes to uncover clues, solve puzzles, and generally run around like a bunch of crazies shouting obscenities until we found our way out.

We’re all dads of kids under 5, so we find ourselves shouting an awful lot. The most frequent things I holler at my two are usually “No, your sister’s head is not a tambourine” and “For the love of god, stop licking your shoes”.

With that in mind, it made a refreshing change to instead shout and scream about how little time we had left, and then shove as many four-letter words we could think of, before and after the phrase.

But it didn’t start like that. We entered the room in a relaxed frame of mind, excited about what lay ahead. Then the clock starting ticking and all hell broke loose. We left the room exhausted, clutching clumps of each other’s hair in our hands.

It’s a lot like what we’ve been through in the last 6 months.

The process was gentle enough to begin with; a general chit chat with my boss about opportunity and lifestyle. Then, before we knew it, we were hit with an onslaught of tax, immigration, education, healthcare and household obstacles to overcome. And now, with 10 days to go, we’re staggering to the finish line.

When you land at San Francisco International Airport, you soon find yourself in the immigration hall, usually in an epic queue. Which is always exactly what you want, straight after a 10-hour flight. So by the time we get to the desks at the front, we’ll be on the floor dribbling, dragging our weary bodies towards them. I can just imagine how excited those Immigration Officers will be, when they welcome us to the USA:

“Crap. The embassy in London screwed us over again.”

Yes they did, America. And now here we are – with our sarcasm, posh accents, and a Vitamin D deficiency.

And we pledge our allegiance to changing only one of those traits while we’re here.


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