The Case of the Missing Indians

I was beginning to get worried. I had called all nine numbers listed on the Indian consulate website and not one phone was answered by a real, live human being. (Talk about Audix having to work overtime.) I began to wonder if a plague had swallowed the building whole, or perhaps the cafeteria lunch had done some serious intestinal damage forcing those people to stay “away from their desks” for extended periods of time. So I tried calling the top dogs of the consular services – yes, their phones rang, yes, I heard a personal message introducing themselves to a no-longer-worried-just-plain-frustrated Indian on the other end, yes, a polite Audix associate encouraged me to leave a message, no I couldn’t—their mailboxes were full!

While I was sitting at my desk, screaming curses at each one of those evasive people, a colleague popped by to help. He called the general help desk then punched in his three (not-so) favorite numbers—123. The phone rang, and rang, then rang some more. Audix has quit. He tried again. Dialed the general number, hit the three most ominous numbers he could think of—666. After three rings, a woman picked up. Mellow hindi music was playing in the background, she was real, I was ready to have a real conversation.

The devil had come through for me.

Day 5 after Day 1

Lawrence: A bend in the Kansas River leaves this town of 70,000 people more defined, more unique. The University is known for its art department whose talent has spilled on to the streets--carefully designed sculptures and brightly painted benches are strewn about town.

That's all I have now. It's been three days since I returned and already the trip is a blur.