Passport drama, part the third

Wish me luck; I'm going in!

If you don't hear back from me within the next 72 hours, please contact the Canadian goverment, the Associated Press, my parents and Thermoman. Notify them that I am being held captive at the Passport Canada office on Victoria Street in Toronto. It is entirely possible that I will:

• be trampled to death by the masses;
• suffocate to death in the fight for the limited quantities of oxygen available in the waiting area; or
• die of sheer boredom.

Of course, it's also possible that I will be flogged to death for failing to wait until the sun is in the correct point in the sky on the second Tuesday of the week when the Oilers return to their former glory in a month beginning with the letter 'ی' before signing all my application forms in pentuplicate.

Crap. I knew I forgot something.

I'll see you on the other side.