Ode to My Passport

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This morning, my new passport arrived. It is very fancy. Somebody somewhere thought that American passports would look better if they were filled with drawings and quotes that represent the true America. All I know is that it is new -- and I have to put the old one away forever. It is like saying goodbye to old friend.

The cover of my passport is faded and bent. The gold leaf on the front is wearing off and the back is covered with various security stickers representing God knows how many airports and airlines. The photo isn't bad (the new one isn't either, thank goodness) and amazingly, I look more or less the same. The past ten years have been kind to my face. Before I put my old friend to rest forever, I took one more look through the pages and the memories came rushing back.

The first stamp is dated 25 November 1998. Eileen had moved to Florida recently and I had gone down to visit her for Thanksgiving. We went to the Bahamas overnight to sit in the sun and gamble. What I remember about that trip is that it was also my brother's birthday and I couldn't relax until I had called him. You see, I forgot his birthday one year and I live in fear that I will do it again. I finally called and spent the rest of the day enjoying sunshine in November.

There are stamps to a lot of European countries, including:

France -- the time that Mom and I took the Eurostar over and gave up a fabulous French meal to have dinner with the friend of a friend; the time that Jeremy and I took six brokers to see the French Open; the time that Matt and I decided to go to Paris and spent an evening in our hotel room drinking French wine and watching the lights of Paris -- including the Disco Eiffel Tower (you had to be there) and the time that Matt and I went to Nice and spent the entire weekend sitting on beach chairs.

Italy -- including the trip to Rome that Matt and I did in August. It was broiling hot, but we got to see Simon and Garfunkel perform in front of the Coliseum with a full moon rising overhead. I never hear "Bridge over Troubled Water" that I don't think of that evening.

Spain -- where I went for a long weekend after one renewal season. I brought two bathing suits and six books and spent the weekend sitting by the pool reading. It was raining one afternoon, but I went into the water anyway. It was half term, so there were a lot of families in the hotel. When they saw I was in the water, the kids began to clamor to come in. I agreed to watch them (one never forgets how to be a lifeguard) and, for that, their parents bought me drinks all night long.

Portugal -- where Eileen, Laura, James and I spent a week exploring the Algarve and learning how to find reverse in a rental car.

The Netherlands -- where Kathe and I went to see a Van Gogh exhibit and I learned what coffee shops are.

Austria -- where I met Matt in Vienna right after he had moved over. We had dinner in a restaurant overlooking the city and a conversation that would change our relationship forever.

There is one for Antigua, back when Eileen and I used to go at least once a year.

There are the entries into Ecuador and the Galapagos -- that trip was my fortieth birthday present to myself.

There is the visa for South Africa and the one for Turkey.

There are too many US and UK entries to count.

Then we get to the pages in the middle. About four years ago I was coming home from somewhere when the guy at passport control at Heathrow (they are almost always horrible people) told me that my passport was no longer valid. What? I still had four years left on it. Well, it turns out that, to be valid, a passport must have space for officials to stamp and I had run out. I went one rainy afternoon over to the US Embassy. As I arrived, I noticed a queue that snaked around the entire building. Groaning to myself, I went to the front entrance to see if they could tell me how long I would have to wait. When I showed the guard my passport, I was ushered in immediately. You see, the Embassy is US soil. With that pretty blue passport, you get right into the building. Within the hour, I had twenty new pages sewn into the middle of my passport and it was valid again. The queue? That was for those poor sods who did not have pretty blue passports.

The middle pages are filled with stamps for Germany, where I began to go a lot to visit Matt and Jeremy. It has the stamps for Australia and New Zealand. It has the stamp for Naples where we all went to see Ed and Daniela get married. It has all the stamps for the places I have written about in this blog.

It has the last two stamps. The first is entry into Philadelphia on the 31st of January 2008 and then re-entry into Heathrow on the 4th of February 2008, when I was so ill I had to sit down to wait for my bags to come off the conveyor belt.

Finally, there are the two entries I hold most dear. The first is dated 7 October 2000. It provides "Leave to Enter until 7 October 2004. No recourse to public funds. Work (and any changes) must be authorised." This was my four-year work visa into the UK. On the very back page is a huge green visa that takes up the entire page. It is dated 13 September 2004 and it states that I am "Given leave to remain in the United Kingdom for an indefinite period." This is my permanent residency. It was a great day when that arrived.

Every now and again, I begin to think that I just haven't done enough traveling in my 45 years and that I need to get out and do more. Going through my passport this afternoon showed me that I have done my fair share. But what's really interesting is the thought of where I will go in the next ten years. Where will my first stamp be? Where will my last one be? Will we even have paper passports in ten years time or will everything be biometric? Watch this space.

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Comments

[matthew Scholl]

Great entry, Chris - one of your best. One's passport is certainly a journal of memories and boy have we made some great ones! Glad to be a part of that journal and glad you're in my life. Hope all is well! Love, Matt