Shit, I Forgot My Passport!
It’s 6am, I get to the front of the check in queue, pull out my phone with the ticket details for my flight to Chicago and pick up my passp- shit. Mad scramble through my bag. No passport.
I exit the queue, planning to jump in a taxi home (after just getting out of one from home) and my phone rings. The hubster. ‘Hi Roonster. I just found your passport on the kitchen bench.’
The husbandito is a legend, so he grabs the kidlet, grabs the passport and drives to the airport to meet me and do a handover (and still loves me despite being married to the most annoying person he knows).
It took long enough that I started getting twitchy, but I discovered that you don’t need to arrive at the airport three hours early like they say! One hour and you’ll be clear for an international departure. Just don’t tell them it was me who told you that.
This is me, and the shambolic nature of the way I travel.
I took the little dude with me to Melbourne the last time I ran Flow Sessions down there. The morning started at 5am after he woke up for the hundredth time of the night and decided he was AWAKE! So I started out exhausted.
It was pouring with rain, which is (unfortunately) not in my control, but hustling everything into the car through the rain just felt… familiar.
I realised as I tried to check in that I didn’t have my ID (yep, that’s twice). I was trying to stay calm in line after I realised, and almost managed to convince myself that I wouldn’t need ID to fly. Not true. Thank goodness she accepted an alternative (maybe my Medicare card? Something official, which I did happen to have with me). I later found my license hidden amongst the wad of old receipts in my wallet. Nothing like a bit of organisation to make life easier.
Ok. So we were checked in, I had my ID, I was tired but ready to go!
As a solo lady with a toddler I got sent to the front of the security line (win!) but then further held up everyone in line when they had to stop the conveyer belt. I just couldn’t keep up with it as I collected my things and my child! Then, I lost my boarding pass. Frantic scrambling to find it ensued, when a security woman found it and slipped it into my bag.
You’d think that after the ID-boarding pass debacle I’d hang onto them a bit more securely next time I travelled. You would be wrong.
On the way through security in LA airport I lost my passport and boarding pass. Again.
I was walking to my gate, looked in my bag for my boarding pass, then realised with a sinking feeling that I’d left it at security. I went back and started searching through the plastic x-ray boxes. It appeared (just like magic!) towards the bottom of the pile. And I was on my way! Again.
Probably with everything I needed.
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