SFI (Swedish For Immigrants)

I walk into the SFI office at approximately 13:00 thinking I had plenty of time since it closes at 14:30. I couldn't even open the door properly to enter as there was someone standing in front of it. Once I finally managed to get into the "lobby" area I was hit with a thick wall of muggy air powered by the body odour of the one hundred + people cramped into the vicinity. There were no open windows, no places to sit and even less room to stand - and as if my claustrophobic tendencies could not become aggravated enough, I realised I was probably the only Caucasian person there so either my self consciousness manifested itself in paranoia or I really did have all eyes in the room on me and my old Hellhammer shirt.

I walk up to the ticket dispenser and press the old and very worn button, after some mild groaning it offers me ticket number 162; I look up at the screen to see they were currently serving ticket number 104. I walk through the room to try and find some empty wall space but without any success so I stand in front of a very loud speaking family with a screaming child. No ventilation. No open windows. And people. Lots of people. I think I stood there for about ten to fifteen minutes desperately changing half-played songs on my iPod in an attempt to distract myself but the thoughts of breathing in sweat spores and the shrieks of the infant were becoming overwhelming. After glancing up at the screen to see that ticket number 105 was just being served I decided to go outside to get some fresh air.

As soon as I squeezed my way out of the hell-room and breathed in my first few precious gulps of air I found myself walking away, and rather quickly at that - clearly my body had made the decision for me; I'll come back another day...