The Colorado Springs Gazette final

Many thanks to St. Anthony and the United States Postal Service

Courier Editor Michelle Karas has called the Pikes Peak region home since 2015. Contact her at michelle.karas@pikespeaknewspapers. com.

Have you ever lost your passport?

Apparently, according to the many people I’ve talked to, it’s a very common problem.

As for me, I’ve only been out of the country three times in my lifetime.

And two of those times were to Canada, which barely counts.

But I needed a passport for my first trip outside the American border, to Montreal, back in 2007. When that passport expired, I dutifully applied for and received a new one by mail months before for a trip I made to the glorious Caribbean island of Aruba in 2019.

Once back home, I tucked the small navy blue booklet embossed with gold lettering away in my desk in my home office. I put it in a little plastic sleeve. Right-hand drawer, far left back corner. Or so I believed — and kept on believing — for three years. Oh, the peace of mind one has when she thinks everything is in its place!

Fast forward to this August, when it came time for my to check in to a bucket-list European river cruise my mom booked for us wayyyyy back in 2019. It was supposed to take place in May 2020, but like many things that year, it got postponed. Then it got postponed again. But here it was actually set to happen, in September 2022.

To check in to this cruise, one month ahead of time, I needed my passport number, issue date and expiration. So, I went to my desk and found the little plastic sleeve, in which, to my dismay, I found my EXPIRED old passport. The one from 2007. With holes punched in it to underscore its expired-ness.

Where could my current passport be? I chalked its misplacement up to forgetfulness, old age, mind clutter. I found a digital version of the “current” passport from which I copied the number into my check-in website. I’d locate the real thing in time, I naively thought. Probably in another drawer somewhere, I surmised.

I started looking, with bravado. No luck. I started to panic. I frantically searched my desk for the passport. I searched all the drawers in every piece of furniture in my house. I looked under rugs. I flipped mattresses. I went through all my files. I searched every purse and bag, jacket and coat, every nook and cranny. I searched my desk at work, just in case. I went through my car. Twice. Three times. More time. Over several days. I DID NOT FIND IT. The anxiety crept in. Here I was, weeks away from a long-awaited trip my mother had arranged just for us, years ago. And I was going to screw it up. I was going to disappoint my mother (any child’s worst fear ... even a “child” of middle-age).

I reluctantly told her on the phone one day.

She said had confidence in me that

I’d find it, I’d figure it out. But I heard the worry in her voice.

I’d heard, from a friend who’s lost his passport more than once, that I could get an emergency appointment with the Denver Passport Agency within two weeks of my departure date. I searched travel.gov to confirm that. That’s when I heard from another friend that because of COVID delays, the Denver office didn’t have enough appointments to go around. They were sending people to the next nearest passport agency. In HOUSTON.

Oh my god!

I went to the Colorado Springs post office to inquire with the passport gurus there what to do. A very nice, very calm postal service worker named Dan sighed when I told him my sad tale. When I finished, he gave me a withering, yet pitying look. “You need an appointment ASAP to get a new passport,” he said. “Is that even possible at this point?” I asked.

It was, he said, but perhaps not probable. He got on the computer and found me an appointment a couple of days later (the first available) at the nearest post office that does passports — in neighboring Teller County.

I drove up to Divide on a Friday for my appointment, where another very kind and patient postal worker helped me through the process of filling out paperwork to declare my passport lost and to fill out an application for a new expedited passport. With express service. To be shipped by overnight mail when it was readly. Rushed three ways, for a tidy sum of money. If I was very lucky, it would arrive in my mailbox before my departure date. She told me to call the U.S. Department of State after a week to check the status. If it didn’t arrive in the mail soon, I might be able to have it printed out at the aforementioned Denver Passport Agency days before my trip.

Luck is not my strong suit ... so, like my Catholic upbringing taught me, I prayed. I said a lot of “Hail Marys” and “Our Fathers” over the next few days. I Googled and printed out the Prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things. I memorized the “short version”

(“Tony, Tony, look around, something’s lost and can’t be found!”) I enlisted my mother, my sister, my aunt, and even my manicurist, to pray for me, too.

Then, two weeks before my departure date, I received an email from the Department of State saying my passport had been shipped.

But would it arrive in time?

I called the National Passport Hotline and was connected to a very patient man (where do all these patient people come from?) who set up an emergency appointment, the first one available, three days before my departure date at the Denver Passport Agency in Aurora, where they could print out my passport. If everything looked OK. Probably.

I continued freaking out, but at least there was a potential solution. I’d taken the steps. It was out of my hands now.

A couple of days before that emergency appointment, I opened up my mailbox, and there was my new passport. If you’ve ever cried tears of joy before, you know exactly how I felt.

As you read this, picture me sitting on a boatdeck with my dear mother, basking in relief and thanking St. Anthony ... and probably having a cocktail. See you in October.

P.S. I still haven’t found that old passport!

VOICES

en-us

2022-09-21T07:00:00.0000000Z

2022-09-21T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://daily.gazette.com/article/281711208510288

The Gazette, Colorado Springs