The Passport Catastrophe Travels to Chicago

My flight left at 6.30 a.m. I'm not a morning person under the best of circumstances, but having to be on the road so early to follow up on my self-imposed humiliation amplified the agitation about tenfold.

I arrived in Chicago by 7.30 and had so much time before my 11.00 appointment that I decided to take the train instead of a taxi. I arrived at 8.30 and found -- surprise! -- hundreds of people waiting for passports. So much for a leisurely breakfast and newspaper before my appointment: I got in line.

I won't belabor the story. I won't tell about the hour and a half to get through security, unsure whether I was in the right line or even the right building and unable to ask anyone because when I left the line I was shooed back by security guards. I won't describe the senior citizens, families with small children, and parents with infants standing for hours because we were warned not to block the lobby sitting on the floor. I won't relate the story of the lady who was kicked out after three hours for using her cell phone. I won't talk about all the appointments that came and went without acknowledgement. I won't recount how after nearly four hours the line came to a standstill when most of the staff went to lunch. I won't speak of the guard who told me I could eat half a bagel but not sit on the floor while I ate it. I won't mention the EIGHT HOURS I stood in line because what would be the point?

All day I muttered that while I deserved to be punished for carelessness, I didn't deserve to be beaten up and left for dead. By noon my hands were shaking and I was having a tough time stringing together coherent sentences.

On the other hand, I will take note of the people who shared snacks or held your place while you got a drink or went to the bathroom. I will remember the small amount of amusement we felt when a reporter and cameraman showed up outside the building to commemorate our day in Purgatory. I will mention the appreciative chuckles greeting my observation that we seemed to be reliving the waiting room scene from Beetlejuice.

All in all it wasn't such a bad day. Okay -- who am I kidding? It was one of the most fatiguing, preposterous, humiliating, stressful and annoying days of my life. By the end of the day I flew home with a shiny new passport and, admittedly, a unique story to entertain family and friends.


Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Look for personalized photo mugs, personalized photo calendars, personalized photo handbags, personalized photo puzzles, personalized photo playing cards and personalized photo jewelry.

The Passport Catastrophe Continues

After hyperventilating briefly I switched into crisis mode. Luckily, when you come from a family where everyone wants to be boss and nobody settles for peon ranking, your DNA contains a recipe for expedited disaster management, with amplified recriminations for dessert.

I researched emergency passport renewal online and began calling the State Department's toll free line. Strangely, the recording complained about the high volume of calls, ordered me to call back later, and hung up.

About seven times. Thank goodness for automatic redial.

I finally made contact with a recording instructing me to wait, wait, wait, wait, promising someone would be along sooner or later. During my forty-five minute telephonic endurance test (lucky me -- my cordless headphone lets me wander freely while on hold) I snatched luggage and clothes and flung one inside the other in case I managed to secure a fresh passport in time for our trip.

Meanwhile I hurtled from web page to web page, debating the merits of using one of those passport expediting companies versus flying to Chicago for the day. When I ultimately discovered that the private companies weren't open on the weekends so I'd lose an entire day before I could even get in touch with them, I abandoned them and focused exclusively on traveling to the Federal Building in Chicago and handling it myself. So, while on my second forty-five minute telephone marathon to confirm exactly what documents I'd need to bring, I arranged quickie reservations on Southwest for the next day (I love Southwest Airlines: they're respectful, helpful and easy to work with. Every time I fly Southwest I wonder why I don't fly Southwest every time).

Then I sat and twitched the rest of the day and most of the night, anticipating the continuation of my unfortunate adventure.

Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Look for personalized photo mugs, calendars and jewelry.

The Passport Catastrophe

My mother, the world's most organized human, planned this trip for a year. She arranged everything, including a small fleet of private buses in various cities to allow our entire family to see what we wanted when we wanted to see it without having to rely on excursions planned by the cruise line.

Every few days she'd ask for my input and provide updates; usually I'd zone out, secure in the knowledge that the world's most organized human takes care of everything.

Except my passport.

Three days before the trip I pulled out mine and the kids' so I could fill out online preregistration forms for the ship. I could do this easily because I'm so organized (uh huh) that I have a safe in my basement so I don't have to rely on a bank safe deposit box. Two months earlier I'd checked their passport expiration dates because kids' passports don't last as long as adults'; I hadn't bothered to check my own, however, because that would have been just too . . . sensible.

I'll give you three guesses.

Yup. Expired.

Would it be trite to say my life flashed before my eyes? I visualized my mother melting down because I'd have to skip the trip she'd labored over for a full year, and who could blame her? I'm sure I must have done dumber things in my life, but so far I haven't been able to recall any.

I saved her a lot of trouble because I immediately began beating myself up much more effectively than anyone else ever could.

So. Tune in next time for part two of "How Scatterbrained Are You?"

Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Look for personalized mouse pads, mugs and tee shirts.

WHERE HAVE I BEEN??!!

Has anyone missed me? Has anyone even noticed I've been gone? Anyone out there? Come on -- I can hear you breathing.

So did I ever mention that when my mother has a big birthday she likes to throw a big wingding party, and when my father has a big birthday he likes to take the whole family on a trip? So this year was my dad's turn and my mom spent an entire year planning a Mediterranean cruise for ten people, ranging all the way down to Cleopatra-Queen-of-the-Nile, who's seven. We flew into Rome, where we spent a couple days acclimating and touring, and then we boarded a ship for a ten-day cruise. We stopped in Monte Carlo (lovely!); Barcelona (extraordinary and surprising); Malta (a not-well-known gem); Tunisia ("Whoa! American lady! Special price just today, just for you!"); Naples (enough already with the ruins, but great pizza); and finally back to Rome and then home from Rome.

Let me tell you, there is nothing like touring European cities with kids you love and showing them all sorts of things and experiences and places they'd never dream up in their own sheltered suburban minds. Five Jewish kids aged 17 to 7 were enthralled (even the grumpy ones) by a tour of the Vatican arranged by a grandmother who had the presence of mind to call a Catholic friend to set up entry through the exit doors so as to avoid standing in the four-hour-long admission queue.

More to come, including the shocking saga of the supposed grownup who remembered to check her kids' passports but neglected to look at her own and thus learned only three days before departure that her passport was expired and had to be replaced posthaste.

Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Put your favorite photos on cookie tins and porcelain plates.