Knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s door
To cross next borders I will just need to give some golden ducats for stamp in my passport. Except one. Because there is line between Mexico and United States, to cross which even magic of dollar can’t help, but only special scrap of paper. There is no way to go around that line, or sail around, and i need to cross it in way to Canada, so I’m waiting to kiss consulate doorstep and get this paper. I’m waiting, humming “Knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s door” but inside shouting “Mr. Consul, open that gate and give me that visa!”. Gate is opening, first, second, third control, scanning my fingers, armored glasses and doors, propaganda posters, vigilant eye of the camera, shoked employee and his question in pidgin polish “Are you really going to Arizona?!”, mirth when he point to my wrist with wristbands “O, I see that you like festivals” and… I HAVE IT! I HAVE VISA IN MY PASSPORTS!!! USA – be prepared – HERE I COME!!!