Those of you you who know me well will know that I like to be organised. I am a person of lists, and to do’s, of check and tick. Despite my attempts over the years to be a go with the flow, I am more a carve out my own river and create my own flow. Not liking to follow in the choppy wake of others. Be organised, be independent, be responsible. I am the one who looks at others and says, or at least thinks….”for goodness sake, how hard is it?”
I am the one who rants at grown children who check their passports the day before they fly and realise it is expired. I am the one who finds it unbelievable that someone can finally make it to the security check in: after posters, and screens and loud instruction people, only to have to stop and take their water out of their bag. I am the one who offers no sympathy but rolls my eyes at their carelessness. Yes I am the one.
So no doubt you are all wondering “what has she done”, what is the whoops that leads this story as you would all guess by now that we are not “on the road again”.
To try and cut a long story short. We arrived to check in this morning. On time of course. I open up the passport to scan at check in and WHOOPS I have my mother’s. How does this happen? You may well ask, and of course WH and I have asked ourselves many times over the last couple of hours. It turns out that after a recent large family trip to Fiji, with 18 of us and bags and airport assist and rushing to catch a connecting flight….I know excuses, excuses…..mine and mum’s passports got switched.
A quick phone call and Mum makes a mad rush to the domestic airport at home with the said passport, but the plane doors have just closed so nope no can do. She puts it on the next flight and we head to the assistance counter to see our options. Turns out it’s easier to just ring the air nz number and the good news is we didn’t get the “caller demand is heavier than usual”. But a lovely lady who re-booked us for the next day and even waived the service fee, a small but lovely consolation for my stupidity. Perhaps that will teach me to have more tolerance next time I am behind the “dumbass” in the queue who doesn’t tip out there water or one of the family doesn’t check their passport, you never know.
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I still feel a need to defend myself. I know my passport number and expiry date off by heart. I have a reminder in my calendar, on outlook and myairnz app to warn me if it’s going to expire. I checked those passports whereabouts a week ago. Check. Tick. I put those passports in the suitcase the night before. Check. Tick. I double checked on the morning of the flight. One, two passports. Check. Tick. The moral of the story is open the bloody thing up. Take nothing for granted and I guess also that shit happens.
So meanwhile we sit and await the domestic plane with the passport on it. Then we will spend the night and try again tomorrow. I am remarkably chilled, probably because it’s my stuff up, but as we know there are far greater things to stress about than flying out a day later.
Tip
CHECK YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PASSPORT.