16 March
Okay, so this is what happened.
On Wednesday, I received my birth certificate in the FedEx at work. I read it with interest, noting that my mother lied about her age on it, and that I was born before proper zip codes, instead it said things like "Hollywood 68" and "Los Angeles 19". Boy, I felt old. I passed it around the office for perusal, everyone being fascinated by this important historical document.
On Thursday, I was glancing through my bag and realized that I hadn't put it in, so I looked around on my desk. And it wasn't there. As I tore my desk apart it slowly dawned on me that, unlike the pile of papers on Tuesday, there wasn't anyplace where it could be hiding. It was one sheet of paper in a FedEx envelope, and when I was cleaning my desk the night before, all in a frenzy of neatness, I must have thought that it was an empty FedEx.
I threw it out.
So I girded up my loins and rang my Mom.
"Mom, what is the dumbest thing that I could do?"
"You found your passport?"
"No, what is the DUMBEST thing that I could do?"
"You don't have a place to stay in London?"
"No, what could I have, let's say, lost..."
"Not your birth certificate, not even YOU..."
"Yep, that's the one."
And I told her the whole sad tale, and also my cunning plan for how to fix it.
"I need you to take the other birth certificate, the one that you got for yourself, and FedEx it for early delivery to the pickup location at 43 W 42nd St. They open at 8.30a, I can pick it up and still make my 9.30a appointment down at the passport office."
"Okay, but you owe me."
Chekhov afterwards complimented me on my cool head in the face of disaster, on my not panicking at this latest setback upon setbacks, and, instead, turning around and figuring out how to fix it.
"If it were me, I would have spent much more time being upset than you did!"
"But that is just a colossal waste of time, being upset doesn't solve anything, so why bother?"
"That is right, of course, but I never think of that at the time."
"And besides, when there are so many obstacles to overcome, the triumph is so much sweeter. That passport will be hard-won."
What I forgot to say, or rather carefully omitted, is that when this kind of thing happens to one on a fairly regular basis, one rarely panics at almost-disasters, just full-blown ones, as the normal level of adrenaline in one's blood is high enough that one can shrug off things that would make a grown man fall to his knees and weep tears of blood.
So today I got up at 7.30a, after thinking that hitting snooze three times was a good idea, but I only managed to leave the house fifteen minutes later than I had planned, so I was all proud of myself.
Of course, there was all of this damned traffic, and then when I hit 42nd St. there wasn't a bus in sight, so I tore across town on my stumpy little legs, getting there a bit after 9a.
The guy manning the FedEx office was a driver, left in charge by the girl who should have been running the desk, and he had no idea what to do. Once he found the envelope, I could only get him to relinquish it by giving him the address label, so that when the girl came back she could tell him whether it needed to be scanned our not.
I finally left, clutching the FedEx envelope containing Birth Certificate Mark Two, terrified that it would dissolve in my hands. And this point it was 9.15a (and my appointment was 9.30a, remember, all the way downtown), and I considered getting a cab, but hey, the subway was right there, wasn't it? And the Passport Office was right near the West 4th St. Station, so why bother?
The subway came relatively quickly, and I got to West 4th at 9.30a, the time of my appointment, and walked to Hudson St., then realizing that the Passport Office was blocks and blocks away! Way farther downtown! And it was 9.40a! Maybe they wouldn't let me in and I would have to beg and cry!
Now I was starting to panic.
I got there at 9.50a and the guard at the metal detector asked me when my appointment was. I blurted out that it was past, that it was 9.30a, that I was late!! and he looked at my white, stricken face and said, "It's okay, don't worry!" and let me in.
So I got my number and I went upstairs and I filled out my forms, including the one where I had to explain how I had lost my passport and also that I had lost one in 1995 in London, receiving a temporary passport at the Embassy.
I waited an hour and a half or so, then my number, 01877, was called.
"Hi, I have come to replace a lost passport."
"Forms, proof of citizenship, ID, and photos, please."
"Here, here, here and here."
(reading form) "This is not good."
"I know."
"This is not good at all."
"I know, I'm, sorry."
"Do you have the temporary passport?"
"Yes, here."
"Do you have any other passports?"
"Yes, here is my oldest one, I could find everything but the current one!"
(giving me the fish eye) "Wait here."
So he went off for about 15 minutes while I waited there, staring out of the window, too nervous even to read. What if they wouldn't give me a passport! What if the guy came back and said, "You are clearly too stupid to have a passport. You have to stay in America. The Raccoon was right when she said that you weren't going anywhere and would be coming into work on Monday as usual."
He finally came back and looked at me blankly.
"Sorry this is taking so long..."
"...o, that's quite alright..."
"...but we are looking up on the computer to see if your passport has been used. When did you last use it?"
"In 1997--I got it in '97 in May, then I moved in November, and maybe I lost it in the move. I haven't needed it since."
"Well, I was flipping through this one, the temporary one, and noticed that it has been extended through 2005."
"Um, what?"
And he showed me the page, two pages from the back, where is said:
This passport was extended
and will expire on 5 September 2005
"That's it! That's my passport!"
"You didn't get another one?"
"No, they used this one, but I remembered it wrong, I thought I got a new one, I am so sorry!!"
"That's okay. Now remember on your trip to take this one and show them the extension in the back with the seal, do not bring the one from 1984!"
I was going to ask him if he thought I was an idiot, of course I wouldn't take the expired passport, but then realized that he probably did think that I was an idiot, so it would be silly to ask that question when the answer is so very clear.
I. Had. It. All. Along.
I swear, this is the kind of thing that only happens to me. I need a keeper.
One year ago today:
"This is Weehawken," I think, "I mean, I understand the freaks being in New York, but not in suburbia! O why am I such a fascinating person! It's such a burden!"
* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *
Graphics by the magically delicious Saundra!
This page was written by hand. My hand. Only
pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Tues 20 March 10:03:09 2001