There are an infinite number of ways to be an idiot. Here’s one recently tested approach:
1. Plan trip to Africa.
2. Review several “Things To Do To Prepare For Your Trip To Africa” checklists
3. Notice item “make copies of your passport”
4. Laugh at notion of nervous nellies making copies of their passports
5. Night before departure on massive international flight/torture method, decide to have a few drinks with old colleagues
6. Have a few more drinks
7. Around midnight, decide it’s time to go pack for 11:35 AM departure
8. Laugh at how easy packing is and how fussed people generally get about it
9. Make some burritos in advance of a 1:30 AM showing of the penultimate So You Think You Can Dance
10. Go to trusted black box that stores all important personal documents
11. Realize passport not in black box
12. Look in SO’s purse, the only other place passport has ever been placed
13. Commence foundation-rumbling search of every square inch of apartment
14. Eat desultory burrito, halfheartedly listen to Cat Deeley as realization sinks in
15. Start making Hail Mary phone calls to last airports visited re: lost passports at 2:30 AM
16. Explore government website to see what the turnaround time is for new passport
17. Realize this process may take two days, ruining vacation
18. Cry softly into pillow as you realize you are going to get max 1.5 hours sleep
19. Commence epic journey to government offices to seek out new passport
20. Conclude that you are, in fact, an idiot
The astonishing thing is, I had a new passport in hand by 11:55 AM. If, like 98% of all flights I’ve taken in my lifetime, the flight was delayed a modest two hours, we don’t miss anything. As it was, we started our trip a day late, and I know have a passport photo that looks like I ate Jabba The Hut and several meat lovers pizzas after a three day bender. (Seriously, I’m somehow rocking a triple chin – what the fuck? Am I really that fat?)
The trip got off to an adrenaline-charged start, to say the least. We are leaving Cape Town today to return to NYC and have a brutal flight schedule ahead of us, with little margin for error. We could easily become ex-pats by nature of being stranded here. The upside is, everything seems pretty cheap thanks to exchange rates; I can apparently get a condo on the water for the same amount I might drop in an ill-advised Borgota run.
Will get back to the normal routine shortly. For now, please enjoy this photo of a big fucking lion.