or, The Misadventures of Frazzledad, Part 1
It’s 5AM on the morning of our epic Grand Canyon road trip. I’m not really ready to wake up yet, but my brain has other ideas.
Completely on its own, without any prompting from me, it begins showing me lists. To do lists, packing lists, possible alternate directions lists, a list of why we shouldn’t even be doing this trip. Apparently I’m not going back to sleep.
So up I get. Might as well get productive instead of lying in bed. It’ll be good to get a jump on our final preparations. No point running around in a panic, stressing about making our ferry.
The first thing my brain presents is to go get my passport. Might as well do that before I make my coffee.
We had just renewed all our passports a month ago. Brand new and shiny, my passport was in a small ziplock on the kitchen table. Ready and waiting for our epic Grand Canyon road trip.
Except it wasn’t.
Hmm. I know I had thought I should put it in the drawer where we’ve always kept our passports. So maybe that’s what I did, and forgot I had done it.
It wasn’t there either.
My Neat and Tidy Desk
I searched through the mail, the invoices and the bills. Not there. I searched through the messy pile of crap on my desk in the office. Every week I think I need to spend an hour or so tidying up the space. But I haven’t and more and more stuff gets piled on my desk. Maybe if I actually used it for writing, it wouldn’t be such a disaster.
But here we are, and my desk is a mess, and my passport isn’t there either. Crap!
Now my heart rate is climbing, and my breathing is shallow and rapid. It must be here somewhere!
But it isn’t. I repeat my search in the same spots, and then expand to other areas. Down on hands and knees, looking under kitchen tables and chairs, under desks, under dining room table and chairs. Nothing.
I proceed to tear Heather’s desk apart, frantic and panicked. How could this be!? I haven’t touched the damn thing since I took it out of the heavy envelope and put it in the ziplock.
Being a Responsible Adult
At this point, being the responsible, caring adult, I begin to blame others.
Surely someone has misplaced it, put it with their papers, homework, bills, or (Please God No!) their garbage.
Heather joins the search, and begins by asking me if I’ve looked in all the places I’ve already looked in, twice. I look again. Miraculously, it’s still not there.
Over an hour later, I’m dejected and despondent. I finally make myself a coffee and try to catch my breath. It doesn’t help. My passport is lost.
The search expands to the kid’s rooms. Even digging through the devastation that is Zachary’s room yields nothing.
The garbage is turned out, the recycling bin dumped, and the bags of film plastic are torn open. The result? Nada.
Two hours have passed, and I’m a wreck. I feel like I’m letting everyone down. Jana, our German “daughter” and Beth-Rose’s best friend, has flown all the way from Germany to travel with us. The trip of a lifetime, and I’m ruining everything.
Go On Without Me
Quietly I say to Heather, “I think you three should go without me.” I mean, what else can I do?
But Heather isn’t prepared to take on the drive herself. It’s way outside her comfort zone, and I can’t blame her. But I don’t want to ruin the trip for everyone else. Jana’s visa requires her to enter the US today. Otherwise she has to reapply, creating an impossible delay.
At this point, everyone has searched everywhere more than three times. It’s completely hopeless. I’ve already had a number of tantrums. It’s not pretty.
Crazy theories get tossed about. Somebody must have stolen it. It went out with last week’s garbage. The cat hid it. And no way to prove anything.
After three hours of fruitless searching, I stand in the dining room, completely destroyed. How many times have I looked around here? It’s gone and I’m done.
Aimlessly I flip up the lid of the flatbed scanner and look down at my passport. A small, strangled sound escapes my throat.
At Last!
From another room, Heather asks if I found it, and I quietly answer, yes, I found it. I suddenly remember scanning my passport for some banking ID thing a few weeks ago. No, I don’t feel dumb! Just old…
And while everyone begins whooping and shouting, my shoulders slump and I sob uncontrollably. I feel a strange combination of relief, despair, and sadness. But gradually, after a few minutes of tears while everyone around me jumps about ecstatically, I breathe deeply and smile. The trip is back on!
Our plans of making the noon ferry have been turned upside down, but that’s okay. We have plenty of time to make the next boat.
So the packing continues. The rooftop carrier is packed with camping gear, and the back of the SUV is jammed with everything else. The mood is upbeat, even a little giddy. With plenty of time to spare, we’re ready to go.
As we prepare to drive away from the house, I ask if everyone has their passports. Everyone chuckles, except me. I was being serious!
Just a 20 minute drive to the ferry terminal, we’re a little ahead of our revised schedule. Everything is beginning to come together. I sigh with gratitude, happy in the feeling that a disaster has been averted, and smooth seas are ahead. Our epic Grand Canyon road trip is on track!
Just as we pull up to the ferry terminal, I realize I don’t have my wallet.
