A few days ago, I wrote about how, for me, springtime in Paris will forever be associated with renewing my residency permit. Because my permit expires each year on August 15, I have to start the process of renewing it on May 16 (the requisite three months ahead of time). Last year’s renewal—my first—was fraught with anxiety, frustration, even despair, as I witnessed for the first time just how screwed up the immigration system is here … at least in Seine-Saint-Denis, the département where I live. This time around, though, I knew what to expect, so I approached this May 16 with a certain nonchalance … a certain nonchalance that dissipated rapidly as the day wore on …
Knowing how crucial it was to arrive early at the préfecture, I showed up at 6:30 a.m. to secure a spot in line. You see, this is way it works: When they open the doors at 9:00 a.m., they hand out tickets to people who have business at the préfecture that day but, of course, there’s a limit on the number of people they can see in a day. If you show up late, you may not get a ticket and, by “late,” I mean 7:30 a.m. Having a good spot in line is so crucial that some people sleep on the sidewalk the night before, as if they’re waiting to buy tickets for a concert. There are also the “spot brokers,” who make their living selling places in line to latecomers.

“I’ll take what’s behind door #1.” See the sign for “Porte 1″ up ahead? It’s a bit misleading; the door is actually about 15 or 20 yards farther ahead. © 2012 Samuel Michael Bell, all rights reserved
When I arrived in line, I quickly assessed my position and was a bit disappointed. By arriving early, I had hoped to be further ahead, but I calculated that there were probably a few hundred folks in front of me. “Well, it has to better than last year,” I thought to myself. You see, last May when we showed up at the préfecture, we ended up waiting six and a half hours to see an agent. At the end of that interminable wait, I got just five minutes at the agent’s window to show my residency permit, pick up forms to fill out, and schedule an appointment to come back again in July to drop it all off. It was an excruciating experience. Six and a half hours is a long time to wait for anything. It’s that much worse, though, when you realize that you endured it so you could do something in person that you should have been able to do online. I mean, this is France, after all.
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