Passport
If you are travelling overseas, I am not talking about the edge of Malaysia which are Sabah and Sarawak, a passport will be mandatory. And I woke up at 5.30am just for this shit. I had to go to this stupid place called Jabatan Imigresen (aka Malaysia Blood Suckers Sdn Bhd) located in Wilayah Complex.
If you think choosing a date for your marriage is very important, think again. It is choosing the date to apply for your passport that is the most important. Well, think of it: you got fed up during the wedding ceremony, you can bloody well throw the ring at the pastor and walk out anytime. But for passport, they will keep you there and torture you till you're bloody dead. The queue can wind around the complex 5 times to be exact, especially around holiday seasons.
Reaching there at 6am, I parked my car on the level 5 carpark. Coz the lower ones were reserved for those blood sucking immigration ewoks. Considering their attitude towards their work, they can never fill it up.
There were already half a dozen of early birds waiting at both the entrance. Perhaps the lift from the carpark leads you straight into the building without having to wait for the guards to open the entrance.
Then there was this fat momma oily auntie killing time talking to her daughter or something who is, if not more, equally talkative as her. I think they may suffocate and became brain dead if they ever stop talking for more than a minute. And the irony is, the oily lady was complaining about how her mother-in-law was spraying saliva all over her day and night.
There were these two so called 'helpful' guys that sounded so concerned about whether you had all your documents ready. Otherwise they will offer to assist you at a 'nominal' charge. And they sort of promise you to have yours done in a jiff.
The entrance opened at 6.30am. Everybody rushed in to queue at the other entrance just in front of the immigration office inside the complex, behind the yellow line. Already located there was a helmet followed by some plastic bags, apparently left there by those 'helpful' people, reserving places for their 'customers'. It's just like living people reserving a place at a cemetery. I call them 'graveyard guys'.
If you are as brave as me, line up closely one after another next to those rubbish. And if your gall bladder is hairy enough, give a strong and hard kick to the helmet to send it flying into the dustbin.
Soon enough, the ewoks from the photo kiosk will come over to help you 'check' your photos. Even if your photos are acceptable, they will ask you to retake or else risk having them rejected. As long as the size of the photos is correct and taken with a blue background, you can tell them to fly kites or suck whatever. Otherwise just pay them six bucks to have it done. And you can ask them to photostat your IC for you if you have not done so. The automatic photo booth in the immigration office charges seven bucks, IINM.
Then the graveyard guy will come to you with his customer and asking you "Why are you standing here? Who asked you to stand here?" And you can answer him fiercely: "I'm farking queueing up for my farking passport for over a farking hour, okay!" As long as your voice doesn't shiver, he will not dare to cut in in front of you. He will then proceed to bully the person behind you instead. At that moment, you can tell him off loudly : "Oi! Beratur di belakang lah wei! Jangan potong kiu ler cilaka! Emak punya kasut busuk!" Usually all your audience will start to follow you shouting at him. And the bugger ended up queueing his 'customer' the last. Muahahaha. And then that oily lady had to farking add her tongue in. "Aiyah, awal mali potong talak apa lah. Sikalang sulah manyak olang talak boleh lah." WTF!
The final dash came at 7.30am when this ewok opened the door, holding a loudspeaker and telling everyone to form a line. "Untuk mereka yang ingin memohon paspot, sila pergi ke kaunter tujuhbelas untuk mengambil nombor giliran anda. Untuk mengutip paspot, sila pergi ke blah blah blah... Dan sila padamkan handfone anda apabila berada di dalam."
From counter number seventeen, you will get a four digit number. The first digit denotes the type of service and the remaining digits is your turn number. Sometimes, according to rumours, you will get numbers starting from X051 onwards, but the number called will be starting from X001, making you wonder some ghosts were before you. Actually, the first fifty numbers have been pre-sold for money. Bastards!
When your turn comes, slam the bloody number on the counter and handover the documents. The sweet lady will start to shiver and hold your thumb, trying to dirty it. Then she will stamp your thumb print on your form. And you will be wondering if she is willing to lick the ink off your thumb with her tongue, if you don't find syphilitic ulcers on her lips, that is. You will be given the number chip back and you'll have to wait again.
This time, you will meet a (if you are lucky) female vampire whose job is to suck blood/semen from you whatever. For a thicker book of passport, she will suck six hundred litre... oops, ringgit off you and a thinner piece of sheet for three hundred.
After you have dumped your load, you will get a receipt in return. And you will be informed of when to collect your new passport.
If your lucky star is with you, everything will be well kau-timmed before 8am.
Good luck.
