It was Bridget’s birthday last week and I secretly planned months ago to take her back to Sapa, in the northern highlands of Vietnam. Sapa is where we went on our first holiday together 9 years ago – I desperately wanted to impress her then, but I was pretty bad at it (peeing in front of a cow and laughing H’mong people on Fansipan is not very sexy at all).
I still try to impress her now and then, but I’m still bad at it. Like this secret trip. It was supposed to be a secret, but I blurted it out one day when she was miserable and after that she wasn’t so miserable.
So, after much anticipation, we threw clothes into a suitcase in a haphazard panic the night before, didn’t sleep, and went to the airport completely dazed. Slapped our passports on the check in counter expecting a smooth transition to the plane, and the lady said, “Ma’am, your passport has expired.”
“You must be kidding right?”
“No I’m not kidding.”
Turns out that Bridget’s passport expired a week ago and nobody noticed. Well fuck.
I asked the lady at the reservations counter whether anyone has been able to get their passport renewed in a day.
What do you do when the shit hits the fan? You go to Mcdonald’s and eat hotcakes. I call the airline office to change our flights to the day after and cursed Lady No Never. We were going straight to the ICA office to beg for an immediate passport renewal.
Bridget tells me that everything happens for a reason and maybe we have averted something.
And then she says, “Something is going to happen to a plane. Maybe not ours, and maybe not this plane, but something is going to happen to a plane.”