I don't think I've really shared my excitement at my wonderful vacation that my Gentleman and I planned. We researched forever and looked at reviews and went back and forth about where we wanted to go and then in early February, we settled on the lovely Caribbean island of St. Lucia. Needless to say, I was pumped. I've never been to he Caribbean before and neither has he. We were both excited but February was still a long way from the end of April.
Flash forward to now. This past week couldn't have gone fast enough and with the craziness of the Budget Estimates meetings ending and whatever else work decided to throw at me this week, I was more than ready for my vacation. I had basically packed (throwing all your clothes in a pile in your suitcase and then staring at is with disdain counts as packing right?!) and I was ready to go. I had even made sure that my passport was still valid, but that's mostly because on Wednesday morning as I was drying my hair, I had this horrific thought that it wasn't good anymore and that I wouldn't be able to go. Friday I tasted the sweet sense of freedom, left work early to finish my shit because functioning as a real adult during the week proved to be too much for me, and get ready to leave. We left the house and picked up my Gentleman to take the red eye to YYZ.. We got to the airport and said or goodbyes to my lovely father and went to check in. Everything was splendid. We were excited and happy and couldn't wait to spend a week int the sun and relaxing with each other. Life was grand. Until it wasn't.
We went to get our boarding passes and I was told that I wasn't allowed to fly. What do you mean I can't fly?! What kind of garbage is this?! Apparently, your passport needs to be valid for at least 6 months to the day of when you travel to St. Lucia. My passport was 12 days short of that 6 months. 12 fucking days. I was shocked. I cried. A lot. And I'm not one of those girls who are blessed with being pretty criers. So here I was with the Andre the ticketing agent who was so lovely and helpful, crying with snot running down my face, blubbering and asking what I should do.
I got on the phone, woke up my parents, got on the phone and was told that I needed a new passport. Well that's really fucking great. It's Friday at 11 pm. The passport office is closed and won't reopen until Monday. This only served to increase my level of hysteria. Then, magically my mum found an emergency passport number and called it. She was told that someone would call at 9 am. Se also decided to contact foreign affairs , so there's that. It's kind of hilarious.
The only thing to do was send my Gentleman on without me. He was not happy about that. I went home and waited for that call.
They called and somehow, by some stroke of luck and baby Jesus, told me to go to the passport office at 1pm with all my documentation. An hour and a half later I had a brand spanking new passport and am on my way. I'm actually writing this while siting at my gate.
I couldn't make this shit up if I tried!
I promise to share how St. Lucia was with everyone!