"Appointment"

On Friday, a bit jet-lagged from the late arrival the previous night, I woke up early to get ready for my "appointment" at the questura (police station).  I say "appointment" because as the police officer put it, the appointment is "merely a suggestion".  So even though I had an "appointment" at 9:00 AM to get my permesso di soggiorno (permission to stay longer than 90 days) I was told I would have to wait outside with the other 100 or so people and get a number. That's right, you have to wait to get a number. Think about that one for a second.  Mind you it was about 34°C outside. Pleasant. None of that famous Italian hospitality here, no.  On top of all of this, Gabrielle, the father of the family that I've been staying with, was accompanying me. I felt terrible that he would be standing out in the cold because of me.  
After an hour of waiting I received a number, 61, and was told to wait until they called my number at a who-the-hell knows time.  They only have room for 30 people inside, so the first 30 went in and we were left in the cold.  Figuring it would be at least 30mins but likely much more we warmed up with a coffee across the street.  Two hours later my number is called and as we head into the questura they tell Gabrielle he isn't allowed to come in, only people requesting a permesso can enter. I'm thinking "Great, everything is going to be in Italian. I'm tired and cold, hopefully it goes smoothly."  Inside is, you guessed it, more waiting! Multiple windows, no actual lines just 30 people pushing and trying to get served next.  
Finally, an hour later, now four total, I reach an officer.  He takes a quick look at my application and says something in rapid Italian. I ask if he speaks English. Someone else helps, they want a copy of my rental contract.  Nowhere in the application or online does it say anything about this. I brought literally everything else but this. So I tell them I am staying with friends. They then tell me I need an invitation letter filled out, which I already did to get my visa in San Francisco, and they want a copy of the deed to the family's house. I immediately get the sense that the majority of their job is finding ways to turn people away. Somehow Gabrielle snuck into the room, thank God. They have a heated discussion and he calls Lila, his wife, and has her bring the deed down to the station.  More arguing, it looks like even if we bring it here, I probably won't get my permesso.  Lila arrives and they tell us that they can't make copies for us. Of course, how stupid of us. Even though I saw them make a copy of the invitation form 10 min earlier.  Then they tell me that my application has been blocked by Rome.  They're scan of my application made my copy of my passport and visa unreadable and they couldn't make out a "K" on one line.  Did they bother to actually look at the paper application? No.  Lila resolved these issues but we were told we still have to bring a copy of the deed back on the 29th. 
"But do I have to wait in line and get a number again?" 
"Of course, there is no way to skip the line." said the officer, muttering something about the United States.
What a pleasant welcome back to Italy. I can't even imagine what it would have been like if I had tried to do all of this on my own.  Lila knows someone who works at the questura and we think she might be able to help us avoid the lines and submit the document separately.  Stay tuned for more adventures with the Italian government.