..: whenever you are lost, remember this story
A smile, some faith and a positive attitude will get you back home again ...
I lost my passport en route to my NYC hotel on Monday. I was pretty tired leaving for a business trip on Labour Day. I probably left the passport on the plane in the magazine rack in front of me, dozed off and forgot about it. In any case, my passport was nowhere to be found when I unpacked in my hotel room, and a wave of panic hit me. I'm an expat, with no US photo ID, and my Quebec driver's license, medicare card and work permit are all expired (I've been a busy girl). It seemed very uncertain that I would be able to get back to Montreal with that kind of identification.
My meetings were stacked for the next day, so I quickly called the US State Department to make an appointment for the following day. The next available appointment offered by their system was on September 3rd at 12:30pm. I took it and anxiously contacted my sweetie, who, in his exhausted and overworked state was able to get the key to my place from my neighbor, dig for photocopies of my birth certificate and passport in my office and fax them to my hotel. I didn't know if these documents would be sufficient, but all I could do was get through my meetings and hope for the best.
After a 12-hour day on Tuesday, I packed up my suitcase this morning and headed to one last meeting. I phoned the State Department to double check what I would need to bring. To my surprise, I still needed to get passport photos, and didn't have many of the acceptable forms of ID that they asked for. I was told not to miss my meeting and to bring whatever I could - the rest would be up to the clerk.
I jumped in a cab just before noon and frantically asked my Chinese cab driver if he knew a place near my destination that took passport photos. Fortunately, he did, and I was able to get to the Passport Office 15 minutes early. I had to go through some airport-style security at the front entrance, and the security agent chatted me up about Canada before directing me to the 10th floor to check in for my appointment.
While I was waiting in line, the security agent came upstairs looking for me and holding a pair of sunglasses. They weren't mine but they did belong to the tall African-American standing in line in front of me. I complimented him on his shades and he thanked me - for if the security guard hadn't taken a liking to me and had not come upstairs to find me, then my fellow queue-mate would have lost his sunglasses. I smiled and told him that I must be his good luck charm. It turned out that Mr. Tall was a professional basketball player and needed a second passport for his trip to Europe. He complimented me on my smile, wished me good luck and headed to his appointment.
I was calm when I was called to the guichet - the moment of truth - to get a new passport and get on my flight home tonight. The clerk, Mr. G., didn't say much. He asked me to sign this and that and to hand over all of my forms and IDs. While I was waiting, I noticed some news articles about his Native American tribe taped to his window with some small dreamcatchers and a card about the Great Spirit and peace. Somehow when I saw this, I knew that I was in the right hands.
When the clerk returned with my paperwork, he silently slipped me a post-it note with a personal message scribbled on it. It said, "I LOVE LIBRAS - SO COOL!". I wrote back, "You rock! Peace" on it, to which he replied with his birthdate 10-20-52 (that makes him a Libra too!) and a smile. My passport will be ready at 3PM and I will get to the aiport on time and board my flight.
It takes a lot to make me cry but this man's kindness and the sheer awesomeness of it all brought tears to my eyes as I left the building. I don't believe that coincidences are just so - everyone I encountered on this journey helped me along the way and I am really grateful. This is one trip I'll never forget.
:-)
I lost my passport en route to my NYC hotel on Monday. I was pretty tired leaving for a business trip on Labour Day. I probably left the passport on the plane in the magazine rack in front of me, dozed off and forgot about it. In any case, my passport was nowhere to be found when I unpacked in my hotel room, and a wave of panic hit me. I'm an expat, with no US photo ID, and my Quebec driver's license, medicare card and work permit are all expired (I've been a busy girl). It seemed very uncertain that I would be able to get back to Montreal with that kind of identification.
My meetings were stacked for the next day, so I quickly called the US State Department to make an appointment for the following day. The next available appointment offered by their system was on September 3rd at 12:30pm. I took it and anxiously contacted my sweetie, who, in his exhausted and overworked state was able to get the key to my place from my neighbor, dig for photocopies of my birth certificate and passport in my office and fax them to my hotel. I didn't know if these documents would be sufficient, but all I could do was get through my meetings and hope for the best.
After a 12-hour day on Tuesday, I packed up my suitcase this morning and headed to one last meeting. I phoned the State Department to double check what I would need to bring. To my surprise, I still needed to get passport photos, and didn't have many of the acceptable forms of ID that they asked for. I was told not to miss my meeting and to bring whatever I could - the rest would be up to the clerk.
I jumped in a cab just before noon and frantically asked my Chinese cab driver if he knew a place near my destination that took passport photos. Fortunately, he did, and I was able to get to the Passport Office 15 minutes early. I had to go through some airport-style security at the front entrance, and the security agent chatted me up about Canada before directing me to the 10th floor to check in for my appointment.
While I was waiting in line, the security agent came upstairs looking for me and holding a pair of sunglasses. They weren't mine but they did belong to the tall African-American standing in line in front of me. I complimented him on his shades and he thanked me - for if the security guard hadn't taken a liking to me and had not come upstairs to find me, then my fellow queue-mate would have lost his sunglasses. I smiled and told him that I must be his good luck charm. It turned out that Mr. Tall was a professional basketball player and needed a second passport for his trip to Europe. He complimented me on my smile, wished me good luck and headed to his appointment.
I was calm when I was called to the guichet - the moment of truth - to get a new passport and get on my flight home tonight. The clerk, Mr. G., didn't say much. He asked me to sign this and that and to hand over all of my forms and IDs. While I was waiting, I noticed some news articles about his Native American tribe taped to his window with some small dreamcatchers and a card about the Great Spirit and peace. Somehow when I saw this, I knew that I was in the right hands.
When the clerk returned with my paperwork, he silently slipped me a post-it note with a personal message scribbled on it. It said, "I LOVE LIBRAS - SO COOL!". I wrote back, "You rock! Peace" on it, to which he replied with his birthdate 10-20-52 (that makes him a Libra too!) and a smile. My passport will be ready at 3PM and I will get to the aiport on time and board my flight.
It takes a lot to make me cry but this man's kindness and the sheer awesomeness of it all brought tears to my eyes as I left the building. I don't believe that coincidences are just so - everyone I encountered on this journey helped me along the way and I am really grateful. This is one trip I'll never forget.
:-)