The "right person" wasn't in the office until August 18th. I phoned him that morning, walked into his office the same day. He took me from admissions officer to admissions officer, to finally end at some New Jersey girl's office. The prognosis was positive, but indefinite. Key to the issue was the question: was there a formal restriction from the University barring my entrance, because I don't have a Bachelor's yet? Even if I met the course requirements?
He said he would use his kung-fu mastery to meditate on the question and return an answer. Instead, he returned more questions the following day, like "why didn't you leave an official copy of your transcript in my office?" -- stupid, stupid me -- and, "why do you only have one semester of Quantum, when Cornell's current program requires two?" -- because they changed it.
Biking through the rain and foreign streets, and the labyrinthine geometry of northern Delft, I quietly slipped my transcript into his mailbox. On the way back, the little red signs which told me how to return to Wateringen were misleading at best. You should see them. There's one place in particular where there's a little red sign saying "Wateringen: take a right here," where, straight across the intersection, on the road facing you, there's a big blue sign: "Welcome to Wateringen." Stupid lying little red signs. But I discovered that I can understand and ask for directions in Dutch. Prachtig!
Which brings us to today. Today I caught a train to Rotterdam Centraal to pick up an iPod -- in lieu of fixing my old one, they just gave me a new one. Score.
And then came The Phone Call. There is no restriction on having a Bachelor's if you have the right courses; whatever that man says, goes. And he says I'm in. So, I am.
Internet party! It's good to be me.