Nearly 3 hours later, and after 4 different M.F.A offices and 5 cups of tea, I was directed to proceed to Visa services to present a folder which contained a request, among other documents, for processing Tyler’s visa. I was lost in the MFA maze of building 3. When I finally made it to Visa services, there was an urgency to all the workers. A terse man took my file and had me sit down for 11 minutes. He returned with, “We got everything. Check back in two weeks.” I intercepted his dash into another room with, “Wait bud, that’s not good enough. Does this mean the visa will be processed or what?”

“Even if you have a letter from the president, you need be cleared through us.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No”

He walked away. I immediately chased him down while dialing Captain who was overwhelmed with chicken sales. I briefed him rapidly and handed the terse man the phone.

“Here, have a few words with my friend please.”

“Ok”

The two conversed briefly and the phone was handed back to me.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just a basic receptionist. He has no idea whats going on. I’m telling you, it’s a sealed deal. Just relax. Dr. Nazarimer will get Mottaki involved and it will get processed within 10 days.”

“But this guys talking about the office being able to override even presidential orders.”

“Haven’t you learned already that everyone in this country tries to take the little bit of power they have and use it to feign Hulk Hogan status”

“How’d you know about Hulk Hogan?”

“I know some things…Don’t fret. You’ve done your part. Now just wait until I touch base with Doctor tomorrow.”

I left building 3 of the MFA and hopped on the subway. I decided to detox from Tehran for a day. The next morning I took an hour flight out near the desert in the south. Then I got a lift out to the sand dunes about an hour away from any civilization, remembering them from my last trip with the Swedes. I witnessed 6 lightning bolts hit the dunes and mini sand storms as we approached. It was cloudy and I had little rain gear. I had borrowed tent along with a borrowed sleeping bag I had never used. I pitched a tent in the middle of nowhere and went for a jog. The sunset was like a glowing castle of promises, magnified every minute by through orange clouds. Running on the dunes without shoes was refreshing. I brainstormed my next few moves without Brain.

The full moon poked through the clouds in the evening and I wandered about the spacious abstractions around me, contemplating everything from God to Janet Jackson. When I returned to the tent, I opened the sleeping bag and noticed it was a “NATO” sleeping bag and rather comfortable.

I went to sleep. A few minutes later, I was awoken by an incredible wind and heavy rain. I couldn’t locate the tent’s tarp cover, but miraculously, even after 6 hours of heavy rain, the tent was only majorly wet in the perimeter. Of course after an hour, my sleeping bag was being leaked on, but I never got wet. NATO came through again.
I had secured the tent with large rocks per the driver’s guidance as “you have no clue how windy it can get out here. Don’t underestimate it.” I thought “whatever” at the time.
During the night, I dreamt vividly of flying off into outer space in my little tent all through the night. I think I launched about 62 times. Images of passing Jupiter and peaking out the small tent window to see buttered lobster tail and snow cones and my Wade Boggs rookie baseball card in mint condition from fourth grade floating by were replete.

The wind was unrelenting all night too, and wind speeds shifted dramatically and instantaneously. At times, when I’d wake, I felt like I was on a boat as Jonah, lost in a raging sea. How could this be, I kept thinking, I’m deep in the Iranian desert.

In the morning, after OD-ing on noisy adventures and auditory hallucinations through the nite, I was happy to find the desert in its usual homeostasis. I had arranged to get a lift from the driver from “the bottom of the tallest dune at 930am.” I had a flight at 1150pm out of Yazd, which was about an hour west, to head back into Tehran. At 1032am, my driver arrived. I immediately said, “You’re an hour late.”

“No. We agreed on 1030am.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Yes we did.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll make it. Let’s go”

He plowed through the dirt path with Dukes Of Hazzard ferocity. We were in a jeep Cherokee from the early 70’s or so. In about 4 minutes, the fuel pump went out and I spent ten minutes watching him perform a serious and rapid dismembering of car parts behing the right wheel. It turned out he was also a repairman of 20 years with an authorized dealer of Caterpillar in Yazd, the American born company that manufactures heavy machinery. We were back in psychotic off-roading mode in minutes.

I arrived at the airport 8 minutes before my flight. Because I had called the airport and asked for a cabbie to get my boarding pass 30 minute earlier, they held the plane and squeezed me on after a few lectures on the cosmic significance of promptness. I boarded the plane with shoes full of sand.

Back in Tehran, I buzzed Brain to give him an update on MFA happenings. We met up and he mentioned having met with his attorney. He agreed that finding Shahidi, the man who the prescription to run was originally intended to go to, should be next on the agenda. “We should take him a copy of the parliament letter and say we dropped it off a few days ago and get him to be persistently on it. A face to face is necessary.” We phoned in the MFA office and Shahidi was still “away until further notice.” Brain decided we should go down there together the next morning to locate him. “He’s probably there.”

I was downward dog and in the middle of a yoga session around 912pm when I got buzzed with news from a channel I had opened 2 weeks back. It was a relative’s friend who had promised to “meet with the head parliament liaison guy I know in the MFA, Mr. Bagheri, and dig for any news about Tyler and see what I can do.” When he called, I asked him who Shahidi is because I thought there’s only one parliament liaison in the MFA. He responded, “They share the job and they’re family too.…..listen, I did some research and discovered that Tyler Macniven was blacklisted 2 years back after his first visit.”

“What?! For what?”

“Mr. Bagheri says because Tyler deviated from the original tourist visa and went to the P.E.O. and was non-compliant to his tourist visa regulations…”

“Wait. What about me? I arranged for all those meetings….What about the PEO?; they assumed responsibility. Were there no repercussions for anyone but Tyler?”

“I don’t think so. That’s all I was told–”

“But The P.E.O overrode the M.F.A. regulations pertaining to the visa.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. When someone is blacklisted, it is very difficult to get them off the list… Mr. Bagheri said that with all the work you’ve done and the letters you’ve provided, you can have any American over here right now to run with you, except for Tyler MacNiven…”

“What if Mottaki gets involved?”

“The only person that can get him off that blacklist is either Mottaki or someone higher than him…and I think there’s only a few people higher than him….well, good luck.”
I thanked him and went back into the lavender doused yoga room. I apologized for the interruption, exited, and called Captain with the news.

“ Well, good thing we’re dealing with Mottaki,” he interjected. “ Don’t worry, we’ll get this taken care of….I will assume all responsibility for the past and explain the situation to Doctor Nazarimer and he’ll relay it to Mottaki. We’ll go into parliament together on Tuesday when Doc can see us.”

“That’s too late. I need you to call his cell right tonight and make him aware of all this. We can’t wait on this. His paperwork is in visa services right now and I don’t want them to toss it out. It won’t be good to have another rejection on file.”

“I have tried getting a hold of him for the last 2 days. I can’t get through…I will try again later tonight.” Captain sounded very relaxed.

“How could you sound so relaxed and optimistic about this? Tyler was blacklisted.”

“Mottaki can undo all this and we’re the closest we can be to him through Doctor. Stop freaking out. Come over. We’ll pound a few Dellsters and you’ll feel better.”

I was in no mood for jokes involving pounding non-alcoholic beverages. I let Captain know that I’m heading into the MFA office tomorrow morning with Brain to locate Shahidi and Bagheri, and do some mind picking. I got off the phone. I decided to continue putting pressure on Captain over the next day to get in touch with Nazarimer. I’ve also decided to further inquire about Brain’s attorney contact and prospects of involvement. This is a steamy dish, and one that won’t get resolved until we sizzle it up a bit with all the marinated resources by yours truly. I never heard of someone getting blacklisted for wanting to run the length of a country and to tell the story. The following lines are intended especially for the Iranian officials that are reading this blog. (And I know there are a few of you now, because I can no longer update my posts from any computer and have to outsource:)

Do you seriously want to thwart a pursuit that will be beneficial to the understanding of your nation’s people? I am a tool at your disposal for transforming the image of Iran. And you did what?!…..blacklist my filmmaker friend for wanting to make the world know the generosity of your nation’s people, the wondrous landscapes, the faces of your country? I’ve spent a lot of time on this project. Nearly 3 years. And why? Not to become rich and famous obviously. Because I care to share a bit of my cultural heritage, to dispel dirty notions about you, and to present a few golden truths about you. Yes you. All of you, including the ones that are commonly perceived as evil santas by certain people and parts of the world.

Is this not the Islamic Republic? Is there not a verse in the Quran that reads, “Men, we have created you from a male and a female and divided you into nations and tribes so that you may get to know one another… Allah is wise and all-knowing.” (49:13)
Does this athletic and cultural project not accomadate that parameter set by God?
Think about it.