Famous Last Words

I am in Portland. I am relishing the portland-ness of it all - the gray skies, the light drizzle, the coffee shops, the art warehouse I am sitting in, the blog-fest I am about to attend. I just ordered coffee in the U.S. for the first time, in the requisite giant to-go cup. Mike is proud of me, but its so different than just sliding up to the neighborhood spanish bar and getting a cafe con leche. Anyway, its nice to be home.

Getting home, however, was a bit more of an adventure that I would have liked.

So Jessica and I stayed up all night on friday. We went to a couple bars, had a couple drinks, and then made our way to the crowds of people lining up on the street to get into the dance clubs to catch the 3:45 am night bus (bus de buho, or "owl bus") towards the airport. And yes, at a quarter to 4 in the morning, the bus was packed. Like, people were standing. We were smart. We figured out that instead of paying for a cab ride all the way from madrid, we could take this bus almost all of the way and then get a cab. And even though the bus dropped us off in a deserted plaza, a taxi almost immediately pulled up and we were on our way to the airport, where all of our luggage was in storage.

And as we were walking to get our bags, on time and stress-free, Jessica looked at me and said, "We MADE it." We both smiled and sighed, pleased at the pleasant event-free end to a very nice trip.

Little did we know, we had just affixed upon ourselves the biggest jinx the universe has ever known. At that very moment, a tiny wrinkle opened up in the fabric of the space-time continuum and those words escaped to the universe of Famous Last Words, where they were unanymously voted to be the Famousest of all Last Words and a huge curse was sent back, hurdling through all of history to land squarely upon our innocent little shoulders.

What could go wrong, we naively thought, now that we have safely arrived at the airport? Oh, poor sweet ignorant children. How little did you know. What is the worst thing that can possibly happen to a person in another country who is awaiting their flight home? How about losing their passport?

Check. I lost my passport. I was leisurely repacking my stuff when i picked up the little travel bag that had successfully housed my important documents for the past month. It felt different somehow, thinner. I had that instant, horrible, sinking revelation. My passport is gone. My passport is gone. What do i do. Oh my god. I think my actual words were, "Oh shit."

I knew where it was. In the back of my tired mind, I had a vague memory, more of a passing sensory image, of my passport slipping out of its spot as i fished around in my wallet to pay the cab driver. Its something that barely registered at the time, something i attribute to being very groggy from staying up all night after several nights of not enough sleep, but something that I could suddenly see so clearly. My passport was either in the cab, or it had fallen on the ground as I got out.

My flight was leaving in an hour and a half. Trying not to panic, but not really having another viable option at that point in time, I ran through the desserted Madrid airport, retracing my steps. Nothing. Not outside. Not on the ground. I stopped a taxi and asked if there was anyway to radio back to the headquarters to find the driver of my cab. He just kind of looked at me. This taxi doesn't have a radio, he said. And there are seven different taxi companies in Madrid, only some of which use radios. I found one with a radio and he looked at me as if i was insane, that finding a single cab driver in the 3.3 million pop. city was a laughable impossibility. That was infact the word he used. Impossible,

The police were of no help, other than to express to me how screwed I was. Thanks, officer. What do you do without a passport? You have to go the consulate or something, and then wait for like 2 weeks until someone decides you can get another one. That is not what i wanted to do. I wanted to go home. But still, not letting my screwed-ness settle in, I was about to go over to the Lufthansa info counter to ask what the chances were that i could fly to the US with only a drivers liscense and an old photocopy of my passport. I was trying really hard not to cry, and not doing a very good job of it.

Then suddenly, i saw an angel. Shrowded in light, emmitting stunning rays of hope and goodness, my savior arrived. Actually, my savior looked more like a balding, droopy-eyed middle aged spaniard in rumpled drab clothing, holding something in his hand and looking around confusedly. It was taxi driver. Returned to return my passport. He had my passport!! He happened to find it, and happened to go to the right terminal, and happened to be next to the line I was standing in, and i happened to see him, and we happened to be standing next to a cash machine so that I could conveniently take out the 50 euros ($65) that he happened to charge me for the service of returning my freedom. I cried and hugged him. And then gave him money. And then wished I was religious so i could thank someone other than the cab driver for the fact that I was not going to be stranded in Spain.

I left my passport in a taxi and it came back to me within an hour. Can you believe that??? I have never known such incredible relief, nor have I been happier to see someone in my entire life (sorry mike. you are a close second). So go on the plane, sleep all the way to Frankfurt. Still amazed by my unbelievably bad luck followed by ubelievably good luck.

After that, what else could possibly go wrong? How bout, the airline could lose all your luggage?

Check. They lost all my luggage. All of the bags Jessica and i checked are currently floating around in some mysterious airline purgatory. They are out there in the international ether. My theory is that they are at this moment circling around on a rusty conveyor belt in some rundown airport in rural India. It can be partially explained by the fact that Jessica and i volunteered to give up our seats in exchange for 1200 euros in travel vouchers or 600 euros ($800) in on-the-spot cash. $800 IN CASH!!! Yes please. Unfortunately, not only did they not give us $800, they made us wait for a very long time for the priveldge of losing our seats and getting re-boarded at the last minute. The also did not give us $800 in exchange for pulling our luggage off the plane that they then put us back on.

But I can tell you, there is literally nothing more exciting than getting off a 10 hour flight and then standing in baggage claim for 45 minutes as every piece of luggage comes out except yours, and then waiting in line for another hour to file a lost luggage claim. But then you get to get a private bus ride to the main terminal, where your nice boyfriend is waiting for you to kiss you and hug you and carry your bag and take you out to sushi.

And then you are back in portland, where things are pleasant and rainy, where your boyfriend and your nice big cat and your friends live, and where your apartment is, and where you eat trader joes cheese puffs and watch old scrubs episodes online and go to bed at 11 and sleep in your very own bed. And it is nice. And everything will be ok.

NOTE: As I was writing this, the airline called to tell me that they have our luggage and that they will be delivering it tonight! Cool. Now, considering that I did not die in a car accident on the way home from the airport, and assuming that I don't come down with a rare lethal spanish virus, I can conclude that the jinx is spent and the curse has been lifted and I am home for real.