Karmacation Kar-ma-ca-tion [kar-muh-kay-shuhn]
- a period of suspension of work, study or other activity, which is fatefully influenced by inevitable and un-planned results caused by one’s own actions
- a part of the year, regularly set aside, when normal activities of people are suspended and replaced by serendipity, fate, justice, redemption, acceptance and humor
- freedom or release from duty, business, or activity balanced by the imprisonment of inevitable results caused by the actions or attestations of oneself at an earlier moment in time
Chapter 1: Signpost Ahead: “Passport to Karma”
It was our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Alice had spent a year planning out an incredible two week (and three weekend) journey to England, Scotland and Wales. Everything was ready. All we had left to do was put the bags into the car and go to the airport.
We were leaving Friday, July 10th, so that we would be well in England, at a nice romantic inn, by our anniversary date of Bastille Day – July 14th. Bastille Day was also the anniversary date of my now-deceased parents.
The flight departure was at 3:05pm from MIA to LHR – London-Heathrow Airport. We were flying direct, roundtrip Business Class, thanks to redeeming about a quarter-million “Frequent Flyer” miles earned over a career lifetime of being away from Alice, Jason, Justin, yard and housework. A 3:05pm departure, in my mind, meant that we should probably be at the airport around 1pm. So the plan was to leave the house “before 1pm”.
Around noon, our bags were beginning to assemble by the front door. This is a good sign at our home that a departure is, indeed, imminent. After all, despite a year of planning for this long anticipated trip, both Alice and I waited until the morning to pack.
I then asked Alice, “Hey, I’m about to load the suitcases into the car. Are you about ready to go and have your passport?”
Alice now (re) directs her packing activities to “find” her passport. I don’t say anything, but, I do think to myself that it’s a bit odd that she, only now, decides to go find her passport. I mean, after all, before such an important trip, wouldn’t you already exactly know where your passport is?
Well, Alice and Jason then proceed to “hunt” for the passport. The hunt began slowly, but soon takes on air of desperation and high-stakes drama. Objects begin to fly, furiously into the air, and onto the floor.
Meanwhile, I load all the bags into the car and it’s a few minutes before 1pm, thus we are “ok” in terms of making our flight.
“I found it!” Alice yells from the bowels of our three-car garage (that, mysteriously, has no room for any car). She is plainly triumphant and relieved! She found it, by the way in “a box of papers”. I don’t say anything at this point, but, I am thinking, “Gosh, what the heck was her passport doing in the garage, Humph!”
Nevertheless, thank goodness, we are on our way! All Alice has to do is run back upstairs, retrieve her “carry on” bags and Jason will then drive us to the airport. Amen!
About 10 minutes go by and Alice then says, “I can’t find my passport!” My previous good feelings immediately evaporate. I am dumbstruck. Three letters appear in a thought bubble above my head: “WTF?”
In her rush to pack her carry on bags, she someplace placed the passport “somewhere” in the bedroom, but now, in the pressure and panic of getting the heck out of the house on time, she can’t exactly remember where it was placed.
So, I start turning the bedroom upside down, crawling on my knees, overturning sheets, etc. As I crawl on the floor and look underneath the bed – sure enough! I found it! Whew!
What I find is Alice’s trendy and specially designed RFID impenetrable, imitation-leather passport holder. Being a just a tad “exasperated”, and even just a bit more obnoxiously an “a-hole”, I say, “look, Alice, let me just hold your passport for you, ok? We just have got to leave now! Alice yells, “Ok! Fine! Here!”, as I march on, my nose held high, to the car. She then continues to finish packing her carry on bags: knitting needles, yarn, iPhone, books, more yarn, earphones, earplugs, maps, itinerary papers, confirmations, makeup, medication, emergency flares, first aid kit, bicycle parts, GPS, crank radio…ok, you get the idea…
Alice and Jason then walk out the front door and lock it! I close up the trunk on the car and, in my hand, is Alice’s passport holder.
I open it up to look at her passport.
To my greatest possible shock: There is NO PASSPORT inside Alice’s passport holder!
The preparations were in place now for World War III to erupt at the Clary household!
And so it began! I was so upset! I looked at Alice and exclaimed, “How could you NOT open this holder up earlier and look at your passport! There is NO passport inside!” And, just for a nice dramatic flair, I flung the passport holder to the ground, illustrating its worthlessness.
Alice was in a state of shock! “Oh my god! How can this be?”
So, she and Jason run back into the house and begin, literally, turning the house upside-down and inside-out looking for her passport.
Defeated, I take all the suitcases out of the car and put them back inside the house. I knew we were going to miss this flight!
Meanwhile, I call American Airlines; explain the situation and, hoping against hope, reschedule our flight from Friday, July 10th, to Saturday, July 11th.
We call Milagro, our trusted housekeeper, to come to the house and help us find the passport. Over the course of Friday and Saturday she ransacks the house with us to find the missing passport. It is fruitless.
On Saturday, Alice and I, acting on information from the U.S. State Department’s Passport Website, go to the Miami Passport Agency in downtown Miami, as the website indicated the office was open on Saturday’s for “exclusive use of walk-ins”. Lucky us!
While there, we learn, from a security guard, that the Miami Passport Agency is indeed open on Saturdays, just not ‘every’ Saturday. In fact, it was quite closed on this particular Saturday, as luck, fingering its nose at us, would have it.
So, on Saturday, Alice’s passport never materializes – it’s neither found in the house, nor, replaced with a new one. Over the course of Saturday and Sunday, I proudly restrained myself and did not make ‘too many’ comments about how Alice had screwed up the flights to England due to her mismanagement of her passport. No, that was certainly below me to behave or say anything non-constructive like that!
Meanwhile, my spirits were sinking very, very low. Perhaps, really, we should just cancel this whole vacation – maybe it’s a sign from God himself that we should stay home. Perhaps I should just stay at home for a week (and clean up the mess we created hunting for the passport), and “next year”, we would go to England – or somewhere else. I was despairing. But Alice remained steadfast: we are going – one way or the other! Her attitude was, “we shall overcome!”
I call American Airlines, again, and re-schedule our departure, again, for now, the third time. Hoping against hope that getting an emergency replacement passport, at best, is only a 2 day affair, I reschedule our flight to England for Tuesday – JULY 14th – our anniversary date. Bastille Day!
On Monday morning we arrive at the Omni Hotel in Downtown Miami, which is where the U.S. Passport Agency’s Miami office is located at. To our shock, we realize that, despite being there at 6:00am in the morning, we are already number 64 in line. And, the line is not exactly “in the office”, but rather it is on the ground floor of the parking garage. Three very large, mobile, industrial fans are brought in to blow 90 degree air over the ‘huddled masses’ yearning to ‘be free’ of this line and get their passport!
Around 12:30pm – nearly seven hours later – we leave the Miami Passport Agency (Motto: Heard It Before), and are told that Alice’s passport “should be” ready by 2:00pm on Tuesday, July 14th. Perfect!
So, on Tuesday, the plan is that Jason will drive us first to the airport, drop me off, along with Alice’s bags, and I’ll check in along with the baggage. I’ll keep my baggage as ‘carry on’. This way, Jason can take Alice to the passport agency, pick up the passport, rush back to the airport and Alice can check in a little bit late for an international flight as she won’t have to worry about checking in luggage. I would have taken care of everything else!
What a brilliant plan!
So, Jason indeed drops me off around 1:00pm at Miami International Airport, and rushes away with Alice as they head downtown to get her passport. At the curbside, the American Airlines baggage handler asks me whether I’d like ‘curbside’ check-in. I said, “sure, good idea, why not?” He then asks for my passport and says, “Look, let me first take your passport to the Homeland Security guy, so he can clear you, and then I’ll check you in!” Perfect!
A few moments later he returns and says, “The Homeland Security guy notes that your passport is expired. You are not cleared to depart”.
I am dumbstruck! I said, “Wait a minute, let me talk first to the gate agent! This can’t be!” So, we walk over (with 2 of Alice’s bags and 2 of my bags) all the way to the American counter for international departures and speak to “the Agent”.
It takes her about 30 seconds to tell me, “Sir, your passport expired 2 weeks ago. You cannot depart – there are no exceptions. Sorry”.
I say, “Well, can’t you just ignore this and I’ll worry about it in England and use the U.S. Embassy there?”
“No. You are not allowed on the plane. Its policy and Homeland Security rules. It’s all because of 9/11. Sorry.”
I freak out! I say, “Fine, just go ahead and cancel our flights – the whole thing – everything – just cancel our whole frigging vacation!” Of course, she immediately proceeds to do exactly what I told her to do. Then, I storm outside, back to the curb. I am now alone, as the baggage handler knew I wasn’t going anywhere today, and Alice and Jason… well, how do I explain this to them???” Gulp!
So, I take a deep breath and call Jason on his cell phone as he’s madly driving Alice to the Passport Agency. “Hello?” He says. I say, “Well, Jason, you are not going to believe this, but, my passport is expired. I am not allowed to fly. Basically, I do not have a passport. Can you turn around and pick me up?”
Jason immediately assumes I’m joking. In a few seconds, he comes to the rather funny conclusion, that, no, I’m not joking, and that yes, somehow, the tables have turned in this family. Alice will soon have a passport, and Wayne, well; Wayne managed to screw up this vacation even more profoundly than Alice did. What a hoot!
In fact, even if Alice never lost her passport to begin with, we never would have made the original Friday, July 10th flight because I would not have been allowed on the plane due to my (by 10 days) expired passport.
So, Jason and Alice make a big (and historic) “U-Turn”, and come back to Miami International Airport to pick me up. Alice doesn’t have to say a word, but, I hear her thoughts immediately, “Oh, you bastard! How could you have such a huge arrogant ego, and never ONCE even be bothered to look at your own passport? With all the chaos with my passport, it never even occurred to you to look at yours? We were even at the Passport Agency together, and you still never looked at your own passport?”
Well, when Jason and Alice pulled up to curb at the airport, and I got in the car, there was only one thing for all three of us to do.
We laughed and cried hysterically together. Karma had come full circle! It was now I who had screwed everything up.
Alice and I – on the very day of our 30th wedding anniversary – were indeed equals with equal parts of pride and prejudice, warts and worry and humor and humility. It may have taken thirty years, but I realized what an ass I could be, and how lucky I am to have someone to laugh with. Later that evening, Alice and I demolished two bottles of wine, while I called American Airlines the fourth time to rebook our flights – new departure now was for Friday, July 17th, exactly one week after the original flight!
We spent our 30th wedding anniversary night together, not in England as originally planned, but with our two sons at one of our favorite restaurants and laughed the evening away. We were blessed by fate and destiny.
Chapter 2: Righting Rental Roundabout Wrongs (coming soon)
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