NO Passport

We arrived at the airport a safe two hours early on the morning of our winter flight to the Big Island for a pre-Christmas vacation and were feeling quite smug about the whole thing until I heard my husband’s voice asking for my passport – His voice was muffled, distant and slow. Were my ears plugged? ”Your passport please? I will go check us in.” My passport? My passport? I absolutely do not have my passport with me – I replied, with that voice that borders on horror and sheepishness. You know the one. My first thought was “why didn’t you ask me for that at home? I knew it wasn’t his fault but he ALWAYS reminds me about the passports (the tickets, the money, the keys, the bills, the gift, the food, the addresses etc. before we leave home.) I’ve had problems in this area before.

I had been packed for days. I arose before my alarm on this particular morning and was ready ahead of the appointed time. I had packed everything I could possibly squeeze into my 7lb piece of luggage maxing it out at exactly 49.5lbs…. but no passport. NO PASSPORT. 6 ½ bathing suits, 5 pairs of flip flops, 3 sun hats, 2 pairs of sunglasses, 3 beach bags, every piece of jewelry I owned, 10 coverups (just in case), 60 SPF, 30 SPF, 15 SPF, SPF for faces only, after tan lotion, Aloe vera, sparkling tan lotion, 6 books, 9 magazines, every pair of shorts I owned (that fit) and all the sundresses and a partridge and a pear tree but no passport.

Our daughter had driven us to the airport and stood there on the departure sidewalk as dumbfounded as my husband. Mom…the master minder reminder and organizer – has arrived at the airport with no passport? Who are you and what have you done with my mother? I know they were both waiting for me to blurt out – Just kidding! But I didn’t because – well – I wasn’t.

My absolutely stoic husband made the split second decision to return home (when I say home I mean the other end of the world) to fetch my passport. What other choice did we have? Everyone on the North American continent knows you are not going anywhere without your passport. Now dash away, dash away, dash away all. With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment he’d accomplish this trick. More rapid than eagles he cruised down the freeway as I prayed he return leaving us needed leeway.

My daughter and I remained at the airport and kept a prayer vigil going. My major concern at this point was my husband’s safety as I know he can get a little crazy under this kind of stress. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out why this happened? What was the point? What was the lesson? How could I have done this? Maybe I did, indeed, have early onset Alzheimer’s.

Everyone knows you are supposed to be at the airport and checked in, at the absolute, 1 hour before departure? I regret to inform you, that didn’t happen. By the time Mike arrived back at the airport 65 minutes had passed and so had our window to board. Mike clawed his way through the irrate passengers involved in a Houston flight crisis in a valiant effort to get us on the flight but when the agent realized I was checking my 49.5lbs of luggage she shook her head – ‘No way this is happening”. At this point, I might mention that Mike had no baggage to check and was in possession of a viable boarding pass.

I’ve never seriously considered divorce (much). But the look on the top of Mike’s head (his face was parallel to the ground) told me all I needed to know. It was over. Not only wasn’t I going to Hawaii but this Christmas was going to be much colder than I had ever known. The wind chill was rising.

I sat on the railing as I watched all the travelers laughing and talking and checking in successfully (with passports) and sentiments of ‘Happy Holidays”…please? I turned my face upward, “Lord, you know my marriage is on the line here and I’ve grown pretty used to being married” How much does this man love me?….he could actually go on to Hawaii right now without me. He certainly could but he is walking back towards me resigned that because I can’t board neither will he. Thank you Lord. “ Don’t misunderstand… I can still see smoke rising out of his ears…but he IS sitting beside me, waiting for the Houston crowd to disperse so he can approach a different agent and see what can be worked out. If anything.

Off he goes and I find myself in prayer once again. My husband was pretty stoked about the great deal he got on the original tickets and the car rental (I might add). Will he fork over for additional tickets? And how much? Anyone that knows my husband besides admiring him for his resourcefulness, humor and compassion, knows that there is no one cheaper – I mean, more frugal – I mean more practical. Will I have to reimburse him for my holiday menopause dementia blunder? Maybe I could get my Health Benefits plan to cover it?

But Mike found a new agent and told him our tale, he was a much more accommodating male. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon led me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke very few words but went straight to his work, and in moments we had new (free) boarding passes and smirks. And I heard him exclaim as we walked out of sight… Merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight.

The poem I wrote while we waited 7 hours in the airport for the next available flight.

”Twas 3 weeks before Christmas and all thru the airport not a creature was stirring except mike and Geri stewart.
They picked out their couches for sleeping with care, in hopes by tomorrow they soon would be there.
While visions of beaches and sand filled their heads, their major concern was to find better beds.
With my feet on the table and purse on my lap I’d just settled down for a pre-Kona nap.
When deep in my dreams my teeth started to chatter and I bolted upright wondering what was the matter.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear? I’d forgotten my passport and broke out in a fear.
Mike raced home to get it, sweat washing his brow, while I lingered behind wondering how? How? How?
With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment I was going to be sick.
More rapid than eagles to the house Michael came and I’m sure at that point he started calling me names,
Back to the airport he came in a blur, and the United agent looked at him and said ‘so sorry sir’
She was angry and grumpy, not a jolly old elf, and I cried when I heard her inspite of myself.
So mike found a new agent and told him our tale, he was a much more accommodating male.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon led me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke very few words but went straight to his work, and in moments we had new boarding passes and smirks.
And I heard him exclaim as we walked out of sight… merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight.