I learned this on Monday morning, when I realized at check-in for our annual holiday in Puerto Vallarta with Tom’s family, that I had grabbed my old passport (with the fabulous, exotic photo) instead of my new one (pleasant but nothing special photo). What a lousy revelation that was.
I booked myself onto another flight that evening and off Tom went to sunny Mexico without me. Of course, this was one of the very few times we’d taken Tom’s truck to the airport instead of my car. Tom drives a full-sized pickup that I have never learned to drive and I wasn’t about to try in rush hour traffic. We’re pinching pennies like everyone else these days, so I called Mary who very kindly came and got me and took me home.
Oh, I was a sad little soldier that day, sitting on the couch in a cold house (we’d turned the heat down before we left and I didn’t turn it back up) watching TV and playing with my computer. The house felt strange, a world between worlds. The detritus of our morning seemed like relics of a more hopeful time. I kept a low online profile, trying to pretend I really was gone. I wrapped myself in a blanket and while Tom sipped two-for-one margaritas al fresco at the River Cafe, I ate canned low-fat chicken soup for lunch and felt sorry for myself.
I parted with $50 for a SuperShuttle back to the airport. I must have looked suspicious with my one little carry-on (Tom took our luggage) because the driver asked if I was going to Mexico to find a boyfriend. Shut up and drive. I hate SuperShuttle. If I wanted to chitchat I’d call a friend. Besides, this guy was reading his emails while he drove. I wish I hadn’t pre-tipped when I paid online.
I arrived in PV after dark but those nice people had waited for me to have dinner and agreed beforehand that they would not rag me about my stupidity. I’m a travel writer, fer cryin’ out loud. I ragged myself but Aunt Georgia assured me that my screw up just made everyone else feel better about their own travel screw ups.
Aside from, that the trip went well. Much too much eating and drinking but that’s how that family rolls. I hope someday to fit back into my pants…
3 comments:
My husband, Mr. World Travler, got to the airport for an international flight a couple of years ago and realized he'd forgotten his passport. I had to bring it to the airport, but it was worth it. Even today, he's still mortified when I bring it up. No passport! The mark of a travel amateur!
Oh, I had my passport and maybe it would have worked if I were traveling back in time.
Or maybe he's so experienced and casual a traveler that he doesn't check and double-check everything obsessively?
Your new passport is jealous of the old one---because you go on that the picture is so much better---and decided on a little sabotage. Better watch what you say in the future, missy.
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