Just call me Alexander

Remember the story of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? Well, that's me today. I don't know whether to cry or beat my fist against a wall. Neither would do any good, but at least I'd have an outlet. Or a hole in the wall.

It's a long and sordid tale, and I can't really go into any specific details, but it has something to do with dealing with foreign consulates, trying to get the necessary permits and visas for our trip, a passport that was supposed to be back in Edmonton by Friday but wasn't released by the consulate, a frantic few days in which we tried to track down said passport and have it couriered there in time for a flight to Hawaii today, momentary relief when the passport was found and in the hands of a courier, followed by another frantic day while the courier company couldn't track down the package that was supposedly in Edmonton but couldn't be found (slipped off a conveyer belt), in the end resulting in a missed flight to Hawaii, an unhappy couple of people, and me feeling like I'm the one to blame even though there was so, SO much of this that was completely out of my control.

And after all this, an overwhelming sense of dread that we won't actually be able to manage to pull off this trip to Southeast Asia because there are still so many hurdles to pass through. Navigating foreign bureaucracy can sometimes feel a little like tip-toeing through a minefield. I'm not sure what's going to blow up in my face the next step I take.

Alexander's got nothing on me. Or the guy who's supposed to be basking in the sun in Hawaii tonight but is still in cold Canada.

(In the end, the passport was found and he'll get there a day late.)