Passports Please ...
A Travel Horror Story
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I woke up with a jolt at 6:00 a.m. still in my travel clothes with gigantic, slumping bags under my eyes. Determined to rectify things, I forced myself onto my feet. More than anything I wanted to give my husband some good news when he woke up. As I downed my third cup of espresso, I checked CNN half expecting to see that our missed flight had crashed. Nothing, thank god. I called several of the internet passport services. The two top condenders asked the same questions and required the same documents. The charge was $200.00 to expedite on top of the already hefty sum of $127.00 to the Department of State… gulp. After some deliberation we decided there was nothing more to lose. I spent the whole morning getting my documents in order and ran out to have a new passport photo taken. On very little sleep, no shower, no make-up and in a fragile state of mind I sat in front of the camera and forced a crooked smile knowing I would be stuck with this glamour shot for the next 10 years. We got to the FedEx office just in time to mail the package for the next days earliest morning delivery. Our fate was now in the hands of a woman named Lisa at RushPassPort.com.

Because I hired RushPassport on a Friday, they told me the earliest I could have my new passport was Tuesday morning. They assured me it would be at my front door by 9:00 a.m. At this point, I had no choice but to believe them and plan our recovery trip based on that information. We booked a new Jet Blue flight that left for N.Y. just two hours after the passport was due to arrive. We would then spend the rest of that day on standby for a flight out (The prospect of spending an entire day on standby was almost enough to make us scrap the whole thing, but what choice did we have?). So we waited out the weekend, trying to avoid everyone. Telling our saga was like reliving it every time. Everyone tried to console us by saying that it was "for a reason" and "you weren't meant to be on that plane." Nothing helped, and the real question they wanted to ask was the same one that kept ringing in my head … "How could you not check the expiration date on your passport before going on an international flight? ... You idiot!"

Monday afternoon, we found a message on our answering machine that marked a shift in the current. Finally a break! "This is Claire at British Airways calling. I saw that you've re-booked part of your trip. I assume you'll be arriving at JFK on Tuesday, so I've booked you on a flight to London that leaves at 6:30 p.m. Hope to see you then." For the fist time in 3 days I was able to breathe without effort. The same woman who had discovered my mistake, had been tracking our itinerary and had possibly just saved our trip. Monday night I hardly slept. Would the passport arrive on time? Would we make it to the Jet Blue flight?

I ran downstairs at 8:00 a.m. Tuesday morning and flung the door open. The FedEx package was tucked behind my screen door. Peeking into the envelope I half expected a jack-in-the box to pop out. I turned to the fist page and a tired, anxious face stared out at me. If only I could tell her that it was all going to work out. The rest of the day went smoothly. We made all our flights and even managed to add a week in our new itinerary to recuperate the lost time. My husband actually did make it to Chartwell and we had a fabulous time.

A week after we returned from our trip, the ordeal seemed far behind us. On a scorching hot day, I went to the post office and found myself in a long line waiting to mail a package. The air conditioning was broken and the crowd's mood was getting testy. From somewhere at the end of the line, a small elderly woman with a lazy eye and a walking stick stepped out of her place and shuffled by us making her way to the front of the queue. Everyone was noticeably annoyed and I was sure someone was going to make a comment, when she stopped in front of a sign posted on the wall that read "How to get a U.S Passport." I couldn't help thinking that maybe I could help her somehow. She pressed her face up to the sign with her glasses on the end of her nose trying to read the instructions before turning to make her way back. She walked passed a dozen people and then stopped and looked up at me with her one good eye. "Do you know where triple A is?", she said. A distasteful memory I had been trying to erase of my recent photo shoot resurfaced. I gave her directions. Why out of all the people in this line had she chosen me as the most likely to answer this question? She thanked me, and as she turned away she said under her breath "I need to get my passport by July 24th, it's a family emergency." I thought I'd misunderstood, and froze for a moment, dumbfounded, collecting my thoughts. The 24th of July was only 5 days away! After mailing my package, I ran out to the parking lot hoping to catch her. With much effort, she had just manipulated herself into the driver's seat. I knocked on the door startling her, and she rolled down the window. She didn't seem to recognize me, but I was certain our paths had not crossed by accident. "Do you have access to the internet?" I asked. To my great surprise, she said yes! I gave her all the information I had about RushPassPort.com and watched her car meander away crossing the dividing line way too many times. I never asked what her emergency was, and I don't know if she got her passport on time, but I have to believe that this encounter was more than just a coincidence. She had stumbled upon the only person with the exact information she needed, her personal guide to avoiding another travel horror story.

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