Many New Yorkers believe that hell is in New Jersey. I beg to differ. I believe that hell is the immigration line at JFK, where it takes 27 minutes to get to a passport control booth. This time I also spent 14 more minutes hunting for a new I-94, which it turned out I had to fill out. The upside is that I never have to wait at baggage claim.
In the week I was gone, the temperature dropped to the shockingly low level of 2. As befitting such a low temperature, the entire city has been shut down, since it is too freezing to even touch the door, let alone open it and leave the house. It’s so unusually cold that there are reports of people burning their spouses to death to stay warm.
Inside my building, I was greeted by a week-old bill for $315 for the MRI that the insurance was supposed to cover. Tomorrow I’ll shout at a few people on the phone to understand which idiot failed to understand I was insured; my money is on the insurance company, which conveniently forgets you’re a client when you need health care and remembers when it’s time to pay your premium.