Passport Chaos

Everyone is told how disastrous the end of the year can be- while trying to complete the semester- finals, packing, saying goodbyes- you already have to transition into summer- confirming jobs, housing, transportation. One of many tasks I waited last minute to complete was apply for my Tanzania visa. In the week leading up to finals, I took a pre-paid FedEx envelope, my passport, my visa application, and the $100 fee to the Tanzania embassy, fortunately only a fifteen minute Prius drive away. As I left the building, I breathed a sigh of relief as I ticked off one of the dozens of remaining things on the to-do list.

Seventy-five pages of papers and two exams later, Will and I hit the road West to home in Chicago via Sylvania, Ohio. We cruised along I-76 as if there wasn’t a care in the world. It was great to finally reach home relaxed and ready to enjoy the week and a half I had with my family before departing for my adventure overseas.

The day my passport was supposed to arrive at 178, I jumped online to track the package. Interestingly, FedEx showed that it had yet to leave the Tanzania office, yet by now it had almost been two weeks, much longer than the five day proposed holding. Slightly concerned, I jotted down a few phone numbers before jumping in the car to head to Madison to cheer on my sister Maddie as she sailed at nationals for the University of Southern California (they finished 12th!).

During the five-hour drive, I gave the embassy a call, asking for an explanation. The answer I received was not exactly what I expected. “We have it marked in our system that on May 15, your passport was picked up by FedEx. Therefore it left our office”. Irritated and confused, I gave the almighty Chris Butterfield a call, who happened to still be on campus. As the God-saint that he is, he willingly drove over to the embassy and personally went through all the passports in their office looking for mine. He even talked to the FedEx deliveryman himself, who said there’s no way he misscanned the package.

By now I was slowly entering the panic mode. It was Monday afternoon, and I was leaving Friday. After calling Jack (the brother) at home to confirm the passport hadn’t arrived that day, I gave FedEx a call and made it through their labyrinth of phone trees to a human being. I explained the situation, gave the tracking number, and anxiously awaited their promised call back in a couple of hours.

Tuesday morning and about five phone calls later, FedEx confirmed the worst, “I’m so sorry Brendan, but your package cannot be found. This entire situation is a mystery.”

On the docks of a small lake while watching collegiate sailors lay out in the sun, waiting for the wind to pick up, I fell apart (Emma, the youngest sister, later admitted to Mom that this was only the second time she has ever seen me cry. Although flattering, it’s completely not true. But interesting how a nine-year-old’s memory chooses to portray the twenty-year-old sister, yeah?). Once I had myself collected again, I reluctantly called the Chicago branch of the State Department. Not, unfortunately, for a job, but rather for an extremely expedited replacement passport.

I was able to book an appointment for Thursday morning, but not wanting to push my ‘luck’ more than I already had, I left Madison early so that I could show up at the overly secure office downtown Wednesday twenty minutes before they actually opened. To my surprise I was tenth in line- apparently there is a large demand for immediate passports.

Within five minutes I reached the front of the queue, and nervously told my story. Yes, I have an appointment, but not until tomorrow. I need the replacement passport by Friday. FedEx lost it. Yes, I can pay the fee. Yes, here is a copy of my driver’s license/birth certificate/previous passport/travel documents. Here is my completed application and passport photos. Tanzania. To study. One pm today?

1:00 pm. My completely new and absolutely necessary passport would be ready to pick up less than five hours later. Never in my life have I been so surprised and thrilled by the efficiency of one the branches of the US government.

Friday afternoon, a couple of hours before Mom was taking me to O’Hare, the doorbell rang. We both looked up, made eye contact, and sighed. I drudgingly got up and greeted the FedEx man at the door. “Package for Brendan Thompson?” Of course. Why wouldn’t the original passport show up two days too late? While looking at the packing slip, I noticed it wasn’t the original one I had left with the Tanzania embassy. Instead, it had the name and address of Rick Deary. Not knowing who he was, I gave the return phone number a call.

“Dulles Airport Marriott. How can I help you?” My heart dropped. Why had my passport been found in a hotel, forty miles away from where I left it? I asked for Rick, who turns out to be head of lost and found. For thirty minutes he and I gathered our clues and tried to crack the case of the Tanzanian FedEx mystery. Turns out someone had turned in the passport to the front desk, still in its originally sealed envelope. Unfortunately, this was just enough information for me to worry about identity theft, but not enough information to prove it. The only conclusion we could come up with was it fell out of the truck and brought to the nearest public location.

Moral of the story, just get the visa in the destination country. That, or apply and pick up from the embassy in person. And be nice to hotel lost and found staff. But never again trust FedEx.