Africa -- or Bust

So I thought it was just a simple plane crash I had to worry about. There are SO many ways to screw up a perfectly lovely vacation trip. Once I forgot my driver’s license and the airline wouldn’t let me on the plane. Fortunately, I was traveling with The Man Who Is Obsessed With Being The First One At The Airport, so we actually had time to drive back to Brookfield and get the driver’s license and still make the plane. Which was probably going to be late anyhow. And how often have you missed connecting flights? I don’t even consider that as an inconvenience anymore, though I much prefer it happen on the way home. Lost luggage? Pretty common. Again, no big deal if it’s on the way home. If not, consider it a great excuse for a totally new wardrobe of clothes from a foreign place. We’ve traveled a LOT. We’ve been to Antarctica – not a good place for shopping, actually. We’ve been to Japan, New Zealand, Finland, Costa Rica, Trinidad, etc, etc... Yet I almost pulled an entirely new fiasco for our upcoming trip to South Africa. I failed to notice on the printed airline confirmation, dated June 3, 2007, that it said, “You must have a paper ticket. You will not be allowed to board this flight without a paper ticket. Your tickets will be delivered via Fed Ex within two days. If they are not, call our help desk immediately.” Our trip leaves in 2 ½ weeks. YIKES! Even The Man With The Stellar Memory did not remember seeing paper tickets, though he is not actually in charge of anything when we travel, except his underwear, prescription drugs (or any recreational ones he wishes to try to get on board), and video equipment. I didn’t remember seeing paper tickets either. I had two folders labeled “Africa”. No paper tickets in either of them.

Of course you remember the small complication in my life right now. Everything from 16 cabinets and 9 drawers of our former kitchen is packed in boxes or stashed in odd places all over the house. I’m lucky if I can find a roll of toilet paper when it is needed, let alone paper airline tickets.

Another complicating factor in this equation is that I have a cleaning woman who comes every two weeks. The evening before she comes, I stash everything from my desk into drawers and shelves. And then I forget about it. Forever. So last night, after our daughter who is traveling with us to Africa and makes most of our travel arrangements (she’s a pro at this; she’s something called “Global Product Manager for Travelocity Business – and don’t ask. I have no idea.) Anyway, it was she who asked to make sure we had these paper tickets. SHE knew about this requirement, even though she is not flying with us. SHE is flying first class from Dallas and on different flights and airlines and will meet us there. But she was capable of putting me in an absolute tizzy with a simple question – do we have our paper tickets? This was at about 10 PM last night.

By 11 PM I knew I wasn’t going to find them – if I ever had them. The Computer Whiz In The Family (that would not be me) went on the internet to see if he could find out how to get these paper tickets. He came to a place on the airline website that said, “Your paper tickets will be mailed to you. You should receive them in 12 days.” Holy Moly! This was too close to when we are leaving, so The Man With No Patience For Telephone Calls Without A Person On The Other End called the help line at the airline. After poking 492 buttons, issuing some unusually colorful language, he actually got a person to pick up a phone. She said, “Oh, that policy was changed. You won’t need a paper ticket. You were credited with $19.72, because we didn’t have to issue the paper ticket.” Somehow The Man Who Pays The Bills didn’t happen to notice that huge credit when it appeared in July on our credit card bill, among thousands of dollars of charged expenses for the coming vacation – not to mention the coupla bucks for the kitchen remodeling job.

It was after midnight when we made our last phone call to assure our daughter that we were indeed going to be traveling with her, when she said, “The hotel reservation in Johannisburg is in your name as are the two car reservations. You should have those receipts.” The Man said, “They must be in one of your folders,” and went to bed. It was another hour later that I thought of looking in the pile of information about dread diseases available to tourists in Africa (malaria, hepititis, eboli) and found those car and hotel receipts.

After that, why go to bed at all? Someone has to think of all the other possible disasters that could befall us on this vacation.

Kitchenless in Brookfield