Up the elevator to the eleventh floor seemed to be an easy task. I mean it's not like you had to climb stairs, how hard can it be? Well, you know you are in trouble when you get into the elevator heading for old number eleven and realize the highest button is ten. Hum. Are there other elevators to the magic old eleven? Well, no is the answer to that one. No is also the answer to the question, "do you know how I get to the Vietnamese Consulate?" After about 10 minutes of walking in circles and looking at the blank walls of this rather high rent building next to the Galleria in Houston, I decided to go as high as I could and see if that would bring me a clue. To make a long story short, I found a small sign on the tenth floor that lead to a secret elevator to the eleventh floor. Wow, this adventure is picking up. Unfortunately, there were only four doors on the secret eleventh level. None of them had any signs and all had security pads on the doors. Hum again. No signage at all, no people, no numbers either. Stuck again. This place must be really secret. After pacing for a few minutes hoping for someone else to come by.... I decided to go back down again and see if I could get some information. In the lobby I spent a few minutes waiting and looking at the blank walls and wishing I had not left my phone in the car. I could have called to see if they knew where they were. Finally as I was about to head back down the street to the parking garage, a small lady with an Asian look walked to the elevator. I decided that was a pretty good bet and followed her in. My hear sank when she pushed the eighth floor button. She also didn't know the location of Consulate either. Back on the eleventh floor I did my pacing routine until I was about to leave again, when one of the doors actually opened. It was hard to hide my disappointment again when a very Texan looking woman emerged. I asked her the same question and this time she pointed to the door right in front of me as if I was a child. I thanked her and looked the door up and down. Yep, no sign, then I stared intently at the lighted key pad security entry system and wondered how the hell I was supposed to get in there. "It's not locked" the disgusted voice said behind me. It was the lady again, just finishing up her, "you bumpkin" stare as she disappeared behind another mysterious door. The room was about 8 by 8 with one window in it and a million vietnamese people in heated conversation. It took all of one minute to turn in my Visa request....
