Passport? What passport?

My trips are never complete without a passport mishap. This past trip to Chongqing, which I just returned from a few hours ago, was no different.

I was standing in the check-in line with my dad when he asked me to take my passport out. That was the first time a passport even crossed my mind! Obviously I didn’t have it; it was tucked away safely at home.  How is that possible for someone who has traveled pretty far and wide? Anyway, my mom had to rush it over via a 150 yuan ride so that my dad and I could change our flight to an hour later for another 302 yuan each. Oops.

The first time I left my passport behind was when I was going to Guatemala. I was on the west coast with my ex-boyfriend, from where I was going to fly directly to Guatemala. But of course, my passport was in Brooklyn, on the east coast. My roommate had to express mail it.

The second mishap was in August, on my way here to Beijing. I was sleeping soundly, with my bags all packed and everything I was leaving behind stored away at Moishe’s Self Storage, when I got a call from my mom the morning I was to fly asking me if I had my passport ready. Yes, yes, yes, obviously. I was half asleep when I said that; I had absolutely no idea where it was. Well, after a whole morning of freaking out and driving back and forth from Moishe’s searching like a mad-woman for that darned little paper booklet, I found it in my dresser at home.

Whatever. Every trip needs a little adventure. Mine jut start before my trips even happen. I guess you could say I like to live my life on the edge, though quite inconveniently. Anyway, the important thing is things always work out. I believe that’s true for everything, at least thus far.

 

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