Mugshot

Sometimes one can be so focused on practical, on location details regarding a trip, and so concerned about all the other travellers problems with going, that you forget to think through your own participation of the event. So we have lunch on friday, okay great, what about the bus drivers, do they stay sober the whole trip or just while driving? The hotel have been talked into serving breakfast early, perfect, the pitch is booked and sightseeing planned, what about training, do we do thursday, friday, friday, saturday? Oh so-and-so can't go now because of this and so-and-so pulled out because of that. Yeah and so-and-so thought he couldn't come because his passport expired but he's got a new one... FUUUUCK!

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I have been planning this for months. MONTHS. And at least the three last times I used my passport I looked at it and found it would expire soon. March, as the matter of fact. Still my brain waits until 7 days before departure (weekend included where no work gets done towards stupid peoples passports) before it realises I will actually have to apply for a new one!

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This thought arrived in my head at 4 pm yesterday while at uni. A hysterically quick check on the web showed me that the police station's passport department close at 5pm. Naturally, I had the world's heaviest bag with me including my computer, and I was wearing heels as I left the library with long, second-row strides. I got there and eventually even got called in with ten minutes to spare, hair unwashed and windswept (not in a good way), no make up and eyes wild with stress (humanity once again screwed over by Murphy). You're not allowed to smile in your picture says the police man. Not to worry, I don't feel like smiling at all. Result: mugshot type A.