Undocumented

I have a recurring dream that I am at the airport to catch some international flight and I realize that I have forgotten my passport. Beyond that, the details change: sometimes I'm trying to fly to Paris, sometimes London, sometimes other places, and I always try to make it home to get my passport, by car or taxi or even bus, but the dream changes before I do. 

Last night I had a dream where in the dream I actually dreamed I forgot my passport, and so I remembered it for the trip. I'd like to think that's progress.

I actually had a real experience that might be partially responsible for the dream. When I was in high school in Switzerland a lot of us took the 3 AM train to Zurich at the end of the fall term. The timing was right to make our mid-morning flights to the States, or Libya, or Tehran, or Algeria, or Nigeria, or, in my case, Saudi Arabia. A train full of teenagers in the middle of the night was pretty much a big party-- there was no sleeping, of course, and a lot of moving from one compartment to another, and some drinking, and we all were pretty bleary-eyed by the time the train pulled into the Zurich Bahnhof. 

I got my plane ticket and passport out and set them on the small table beneath the window in the six-seat compartment, and pulled my orange backpack from the overhead rack. Shouldering the pack, I turned and followed my friends through the sliding door, into the narrow corridor, and down the folding stairs onto the platform. It was only when I reached in my pocket for the 5 franc coin I needed to pay for the airport shuttle bus on the other side of the station that I realized what I had left behind. I waved good-bye to my friends (they had planes to catch!) and ran back to the track we had come in on, but the train was gone. 

What followed was a lot of me explaining my plight in English to people who spoke German. I finally ended up in a stuffy office within a cavernous luggage storeroom. A very stern looking man frowned at me as he punched the buttons on a putty-colored phone and held the receiver to his ear. He spoke at length, in German of course, to the person on the other end, as I fidgeted with my watch and wondered what I would do if I missed my flight home. "

Zey haff it," he told me when he hung up, "and zey are sending it on ze next train." 

"What time?" I asked him, pointing at my watch. 

"Drießig minuten" he answered.Thirty minutes.

It was tense, but I made the plane, and I had almost forgotten about the whole ordeal when we landed. My dad, who worked for the airline, used his badge to meet me on the tarmac, and as we walked toward the terminal he said, "What happened to your passport?"

I stared at him, speechless for a moment. "I left it on the train! How did you know?" I asked.

He just squeezed the back of my neck and shook his head. I was so tired, I let it drop. And to this day, I have no idea if he really knew what I had done, or if it was just a lucky vote of no confidence.

Senioritis

I was stoked when I finally got my passport renewal in the mail a couple of weeks ago. Even though I have no plans for international travel, the past 10 months have been the first time since 1975 that I couldn't hop on a plane and fly out of the country whenever the opportunity presented itself. But I was busy in Minnesota in August, back to school in September, Back to Minnesota in October, and on to the holidays in November and December, and so on.

In short, I just didn't make the time to get my photo taken. So when the UPS store reopened in phase whatever of the pandemic, and I happened to be there dropping off a return package, I seized the opportunity and a quick, maskless picture snapped. Truth be told, I didn't love the photo, but who actually likes their passport picture? So, I printed the form, stapled my picture, wrote the check, put my old passport in the envelope and sent it off, acknowledging the advisory on the State Department website that there are delays due to Covid-19.

Imagine my delight and surprise then, when last week a package arrived from the passport office. Hooray! I cheered as I tore it open, only to discover a polite letter informing me that I had forgotten to enclose payment with my paperwork. I could have sworn I had written that check, but I took the whole experience as a sign to get my photo retaken, which is exactly what I did today, right after leaving the DMV (where I successfully renewed my license and got a REAL ID!).

The new picture was a little more to my liking, and upon returning home, I gathered my passport, the application, replaced the old 2x2 image with the new, and whipped out my checkbook to make sure I completed the process this time. And that is where I found the check I had written before, dutifully recorded in the register, but still attached to the book, by far the most egregious of all my senior moments to date.

But, fortunately? Easy to remedy, AND that new picture!

Official Portrait

I recognized him the minute we walked in the door of the UPS Store: it was the same guy who helped us with our big shipment in December. This time we were simply there to acquire passport photos for Heidi; the store was empty of other customers, and there were three employees on duty, so I had high hopes of an expedient experience.

As it turned out, although there were three  folks in uniform, it was actually just Dave and the two women he was training. So even something so simple as having a photo taken and printed became an elaborate ordeal, narrated in minute detail by Mr. Neurotic-attention-to-detail, so it was kind of a lengthy process involving finding the digital camera, moving a large rack of mailing tubes, asking Heidi to step forward, backward, forward, not smile, smile a little, look at the shot, reframe and retake and repeat, locate the cable, plug into the printer, choose the proper setting (no not that one) trim the prints and place them in an official blue cardboard cover, then ring the sale, no not that code, no the other one, swipe again, sign, wait for the receipt and...

We had parked in a 15 minutes or less spot in the lot, and by the end of the transaction I was standing by the door scanning for tow trucks or meter maids, but after a comprehensive discussion of just how blue Heidi's eyes are, they finally closed the little folder and handed it to her, and our business was finally complete.

On the upside, I do feel fully qualified to take and print and ring up a passport photo down there.

Line in the Sand

We are visiting family in Buffalo and today they proposed a visit to Niagara on the Lake, a lovely town not far from here. Unfortunately, NoL is in Canada, and US Citizens may not exit and re-enter our country without either a passport or secure driver's license. Our home state, Virginia, is rolling out the SDL as each of ours expires after its five-year term, although residents can request one sooner. Even so, neither of us have one, nor do we commonly travel with a passport, so no border crossing for us.

In the grand scheme of things, such security measures are neither surprising nor completely unreasonable, and it is really not a big deal; we simply made other plans. But still, how strange to stand by the side of a river in the land of the free with the knowledge that the opposite bank is off-limits. after traveling the world in my younger years, it is just not the sort of experience I associate with being American.

Ready to Roll

Probably my most common anxiety dream is that I'm at the airport, ready to go on a trip, and I've forgotten my passport at home. I can't count the variations I've had of this nightmare. I'm forever desperately trying to retrieve my passport and meet my party before the plane departs. There are always parking garages, taxis, escalators, and security people that are either helping me or hindering me, and my father is always there, somewhere, waiting for me to get my shit together and make the flight. I always wake up before the final act, so I never know what happens. Today I got my new passport in the mail. When my old passport expired in January, it was the first time since 1975 that I was without the credentials to leave the country. To be honest, I've only traveled abroad 3-4 times in the last ten years, and all but one of those trips was just across the border to Canada. My life is a lot different now than it was in the days when my family lived overseas and we all had airline passes that allowed us to standby for any open seat on any flight. I do miss the international travel, but on a teacher's salary the cost is prohibitive, and like many people, I get caught up in the details of leaving home-- who will care for my pets, water my plants, teach my students? Even so, I was uneasy without a valid passport, and flipping through the blank pages of my brand new booklet today I felt optimistic, looking forward to all the trips I might take between now and August 18, 2019. I was also glad to be prepared to go almost anywhere, should I have the need or the desire to do so, assuming I remember to bring the darn thing along.