Stupid, Stupid Day
Right now I'm supposed to be on a 'plane flying to Munich. For dull, worky purposes, yes, but I was looking forward to visiting a new city I had never been to before, and getting a change of scenery for a few days. This day has been, however, not mine. The shower breaking down for the nth time was irritating enough, and the taxi driver deciding that the heavy-but-moving traffic on the motorway was too busy and choosing a heavily-clogged back-road instead made me nervous that I was going to miss my flight. I got there without too much time to spare, paid the man, jammed my passport and ticket into my back pocket, and high-tailed it through the car-park to the terminal entrance, only to find when I got there that my passport was no longer with me. I retraced my steps three or four times, asked around, went to the lost-property office, but to no avail, and had to slink off home, defeated.
I had assumed that someone had lifted it from my back pocket. It seemed to be in there quite securely, when I headed to the terminal, and there were a lot of people around. Surely, if it had just fallen out, someone would have spotted it and caught up with me. But no - I got a phone call this evening from the airport to say that it had been handed in. Where it had been in the intervening hours, I cannot say. But man, do I feel like a tube, and I'm not particularly looking forward going into work tomorrow and telling the whole embaressing story over and over again.
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