In all my overseas travels, I’ve never needed to visit a US Embassy. My knowledge of such places is limited to the very “real” depictions shown in action movies. So I was a bit surprised at the lack of running and gunfire involved as we checked in to the US Embassy in London last week.
It’s a bit backward, but Jason and Lena don’t actually have passports despite the fact that we live in a foreign country. We were issued no-fee passports which essentially act as our visas to be in Great Britain. However, we can’t technically leave Britain without American passports hence our trip to the US Embassy. There are absolutely no electronics allowed inside so we had to rent a small storage locker for our camera, cell phones and yes, even our car keys. Luckily, we were able to bring in snacks for Lena or it could have been a bad situation.
After waiting two hours to sign a paper we had already signed, all our documents were submitted and we were free to go. Since we had already invested two hours into travel time, we decided to walk around a bit and do some shopping.
It’s been a running joke between the Sarge and our friends that he’ll be converted into a skinny-jean-wearing-hipster now that we live in Europe. He has sworn up and down that it will never happen despite the fact that I want nothing more than to see him in a pair of tight pants. Jason’s style has changed significantly from when we first met. It would best be described as gang-banger. His closet was filled with XXL shirts and pants by Ecko, Sean John and possibly Fubu (though I can neither confirm nor deny that last label). One of our first “dates” involved a trip to the mall to find him a velour jumpsuit – preferably in UNC baby blue. Sadly, we came home empty handed.
I’ve slowly been wearing him down over the years and all my hard work came to fruition at a store called Primark on Oxford Street in London, England. My husband, the one who so adamantly refused to even entertain the idea of wearing pants that fit, purchased a pair of skinny jeans. Not only that, he purchased sweaters and button-ups in a size LARGE. I was so giddy I could barely contain myself until we got home and he could model his new threads for me.
Once we were outside city limits and back to our village, his comfort level for current fashion standards quickly diminished. In an attempt to show him how good the new clothes looked, I thought I’d take some pictures. Please excuse the poor photo quality as I was shooting while running up a staircase and navigating doors being slammed in my face. Luckily, he doesn’t read this blog so he won’t even realize I’ve shared these pictures with the world wide web. If you see this handsome fellow in his new clothes, for the love of Nancy, please don’t make fun of the pants. I’ve invested four years of my life to get to this point and I am finally able to realize a bit of progress. Isn’t he a handsome little devil?!