one week prior to departure

On Tuesday, a co-worker and I were discussing how to handle the onslaught of new hires we will soon be faced with. Handling 100 new employees in the time frame of 2 months creates a unique set of problems, as I am sure you can imagine. In the middle of the conversation she looks at me and says, "your passport is expired". As much fun as it would be to think she is psychic, it isn't the case, she is just a very efficient HR manager. I happens she keeps a spreadsheet of all the employees and when their necessary documents expire. After all, we can't have a food handlers card expire and then face a surprise visit from the county or it could cause a problem. I didn't think it could possibly be true, since I secured my passport at the time of my divorce (note to self, have a drink tonight, today is the 4th anniversary of that day!), so this can't be the case! Passports are good for what....ten years....eight years? It has been only four! We ran to the back and pulled my employee file, which in fact held a photocopy of my EXPIRED passport. It was issued for just ONE year! (This now had me feeling ill, since the trip to Cancun was a mere 10 days away.)

A google search, a couple of phone calls and an incredibly helpful daughter later, I have my actual passport in hand. Page 24 had a cryptic code that even the US Passport help desk couldn't fully explain. It seems my "proof of citizenship is in question". I was born in Florida, lived in Washington state for 23 years and Oregon ever since. I have been to BC a few times and Tijuana twice. Now Tijuana is a crazy town, I admit, but I do not remember anything happening that would cost me my citizenship.

I dug out all of my pertinent paperwork, took Tuesday off work and headed to the regional passport office in Seattle. The traffic was light, parking easy and I arrived an hour early for my appointment. They said to go ahead and fill out the required form then check in at window One where I will have my forms reviewed and be assigned a number for my turn at the real window. In my head I am fist pumpin' in joy at how smooth this is all going so far! It takes but a couple of minutes and there I proudly stand in front of window One with my forms in order. No doubt she would tell me how nice and neat they were....and here is your shiny new passport for 10 years.....and have a wonderful trip! Ms. Window One takes my papers, smiles and asks for my new passport photos and itinerary for my upcoming trip. GULP. Really? Why can't they use the photo on my expired passport!? It was only taken FOUR years ago!! Not that I would want them to use it, to be quite frank, the photo looks like someone from the nightly news that was picked up for having 47 cats in her trailer, or for selling crack to an undercover cop. Seriously a bad photo. And itinerary? Do they really think I would take the day off work and drive all the way from Portland to sneakily obtain a passport in 1 week instead of the usual 6?

Soon I was hiking up the hill to the nearby Kinkos for a new passport photo. I called work and my dear co-worker was willing to dig through my desk, find my itinerary and fax it up to me as well. This time I remembered to smile for the passport photographer, no more psycho passport pic! Then back down the hill to the passport office, through the metal detectors, up the proper bank of elevators this time, smile at the guards and check in at window one. Ms. Window One has been replaced by Mr. Window One. He is relatively pleasant, which is saying a lot for him after seeing the family he had to help before me! I didnt' get the whole story, because I don't speak spanish, but I believe it had to do with her dropping him at the border and a van picking him up, then she and they kids will fly down and meet him there....and can he get back into the US with the kids? Hmmmmm. yet MY citizenship is in question! Well, Mr. Window One reviews my forms and gives me a number. The room is completely empty, so I wonder why I have to be given a number that they immediately will put up on the little board, since there are 3 workers at windows and I am the only one waiting. This is the US government, so who am I to argue.

Smiling I now hand my paperwork to window Ms C14. She isn't quite as friendly as the Window One folk, but I am sure I am going to win her over and be sympathetic to my problem here, after all, this is her job! She scanned my paperwork, but failed to compliment me on my neat penmanship. The looks at my expired passport, types a few things into her computer and slowly lifts my birth certificate to the light. This was the way it went: Peer at certificate....glare at me....examine it closer....evil eye at me.....feel embossment.....look at me warily.....turn it over and examine the back.....give me a look that says I am a terrorist just pretending to be a suburbanite from Orenco who is going to Cancun on vacation when really my sinister plans include explosives and the death of many innocent civilians....back to my obvious insufficient document. She passed it back to me and simply states, "your birth certificate isn't valid, we can't give you a passport". She must be joking....haha. Nope. My citenship is in question until I can provide a certified copy of my birth certificate. At this point I wasn't brave enough to look back at the 3 large,armed guards at the door, lest they think I am considering making a dash for it.

While wandering down to Pike Street market for a coffee and pastry to cheer me up, I called my office and my dear co-worker started researching what my next step would be. With coffee, croissant, pen in hand and a napkin to take notes on, I called the state of Florida. May I point out that I learned during that call that the government already knows everything about me for the past 46 years. They really didn't need a new birth certificate, why would they? What more could that piece of paper give them that they didn't already know? They knew every street I had lived on in my entire life, I kid you not. After many questions about places I had lived, names, maiden names, parents bloodtypes, cars I have driven, what kind of wallet I carry and the last time I had my teeth cleaned, the nice lady said my new birth certificate would be overnighted to me. That would be $45.

When I walked in the door after work on Friday, there it was....the official UPS express envelope that held proof that I was who I said I was all these years. I pulled that little tab that rips it open (one of those things in life I really love to do, like using floss-ums in bed or sharpening popsicle sticks on the sidewalk), reached inside and pulled out my brand new proof of citizenship! My mom, my dad and me right there on the paper, vision of the little family we were in June of 1963 in Dade/Miami, FL.

Now I have 6 days until I am scheduled to fly the friendly skies to paradise, but still with no passport. Wednesday I will drive back up to Federal Building on 2nd street in downtown Seattle, with said document in hand. Hopefully I will get Ms. C14 again and she will have to swallow her words as she hands me my passport.

Here we go....

This past week I was sharing with my very tolerant co-workers the interesting details of my upcoming trip to Cancun. (First, I must digress and say I share every detail of my life with my co-workers, so if you want to know anything at all about me, just call one of them.) The story of this trip, in my own mind, is so uniquely interesting I decided I should keep a blog about it. This got me thinking further about my Orenco gang and perhaps keeping a blog of our adventures. Of course, the girls may want a say in it.

Let me give a little background about this Cancun adventure I will soon embark upon: My sister, Denise, announced her engagement last June to her charming beau, Jesse. By fall they had decided it would be great fun to take the party to Cancun to witness the nuptials. Being her one and only sister, of course I am IN. (and honestly, when have I not been one to take part in a party....but that isn't the story here.) They start making plans and the party is on....

Keep in mind, I don't know anyone going on this trip except my sister, her beau and her 8 year old daughter....and I am the only single person going - despite my practical begging of every friend I have met in the past 15 years, who ALL have other plans or can't go for some reason or another (no judgment being passed here.....but let's leave it at this.....I would totally do it for each of YOU!). Yet she is my only sister and she is getting married and he will be my brother in law for the rest of my life, so I am in.

After the resort received our confirmed reservations, they advise my sister that the entire group must attend a 90-minute time share presentation while we are there. To Denise and Jesse’s credit, they gave everyone an “opt out” of the trip option at this point. I will go and attend the sales pitch. However, I will likely come up with an alter identity for them. If I do a good job, maybe they will dismiss me early from the presentation and I can go back to the beach and my margarita.

In preparation of this trip, I decided I need a new swimming suit (or 2) and a new cover-up....and a new dress (or 2) and some sandals....and maybe a new tote for the beach....and definitely a new pair of sunglasses (or 2). I am ignoring the cost of this part of the trip, because all of that can be used again, right? I may have failed to mention, I am the Maid of Honor, so these are necessities. The $123 for 2 weeks of tanning was definitely more than I expected, but if I don't tan in advance, I can't enjoy the trip!

Earlier this month we had a pre-Cancun get together out at the Mexican Restaurant in Rainier, OR. I had the pleasure of meeting 5 adults and one child that are going on this trip with us. (Denise, quit reading now.) I have nick named one woman Lady Elaine (from Mister Roger's). How do you describe someone who has no personality and complains constantly? On the positive side, she had a really nice puffy vest on that night. Her husband I haven’t pegged yet. (How would I, he wasn't allowed to speak much.)
Then there was Crazy Fan Lady and her husband, One-Beer Man. Crazy Fan Lady had hot flashes. She owns 30 personal sized fans to have at her beckon call when one hits, which is often. She gets this crazed look like something out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, dives in her bag for a fan. She closes her eyes and rolls her head around while pointing the fan at her face and neck, then after about 5 minutes later she is back as if nothing awkward just took place.
Her husband, One Beer Man, adores her. It really was cute. He brags about her fans! He and Jesse, are close friends. Jesse calls him "Pa". No idea why since there isn't much difference in age (maybe Cancun will reveal that story). But it seems One Beer Man only allows himself one beer. Period. Wedding party in Cancun or not it is one beer. He ought to be a riot on this trip.

Now, all that said, the wedding party is flying out on February 5. I will be golden brown and have a suitcase full of new frocks for the festivities. A week in paradise in a hacienda of my own! It even has a semi-private pool (shared with about 4 other hacienda dwellers).

By the way.....Denise and Jesse got married at the courthouse last Tuesday afternoon. I guess their dachshund was there.

there better be Pool Boys.