"Oh no! You brought your old passport!"
We were ready. We had carry-ons filled with books, Kindles, iPads, travel guides and Twizzlers. We had suitcases packed with shoes, shirts (one of us had three; the other had fourteen); a week's worth of socks and underwear (laundry would have to be done); adapters, headphones, phrasebooks, toiletries, and sundry supplies, devices and effluvia.
That is, we thought we were ready, until the gate agent asked me for my passport. That's when my wife discovered to everyone's horror that I had brought my 1998 passport instead of my recently-renewed one.
I left my bags at check-in, and with a sick, panicky feeling, ran through the underground labyrinth of Terminal A (catchy name, that) threw myself into a waiting taxi. I urged my Ethiopian taxi driver to push his nondescript vehicle perilously towards the speed limit, attempting to ingratiate myself by displaying my prodigious knowledge of his home country -- which pretty much started and ended at "Haile Selassie."
With about an hour to go until our flight to Toronto took off, I arrived at our house, burst in the door, startled the cats, and tore up the stairs. Thankfully, the new passport was right where I hoped I had left it. After briefly considering incurring hundreds in parking fees and moving violations by using my own car for the return trip, I threw myself back into the waiting cab, and continued to feign interest in the coffee crops of Ethiopia (the best in the world, I am given to believe). My panic must have been palpable, because the driver offered to push his vehicle to a hair-raising 37 miles an hour -- which has got to be a land speed record for taxis on St. Paul surface roads!
With about 30 minutes to go before out flight, I arrived at the Delta counter where the wife and the good-natured, helpful agent were standing by. The agent checked us in, ascertained that our marriage appeared to still be intact, and sent us to the TSA line.
A few pat-downs and wandings later we walked briskly through the airport to our gate, where passengers were just starting to queue up to board.
Crisis (and wifely Old-Testament-style smiting) averted! Europe here we come!
PS: Is it too early to get a drink on this flight?
