Having a passport is a wonderful thing

Okay, so now that I have my passport back, I feel totally comfortable about telling everyone about the day "In Which Jess Loses Her Passport and Subsequently Retrieves It By Means of a Heffalump" (à-la- A. A. Milne).

*NB: no heffalumps were harmed in the retrieval of my passport

My Grand Passport Adventure began tuesday night, when I decided, after arranging to meet with friends for a late night movie, that I would miss the tuesday night train back to Haifa from Tel Aviv, and instead take it at 5:44 Wednesday morning (brilliant), in order to be on time for my 8:15 class.

The following is a scene-by-scene recount of the Grand Passport Adventure. It's riveting.

4:45 am. I am woken up by my cellphone alarm clock. I stumble into the bathroom, brush teeth, shower, and get dressed. I finish packing my bag, and call a taxi to the train station

Passport Status: In top pocket of backpack

5:30 am. I pay the taxi driver, show my passport to the security guard, an act which insures that he won't make me spill out the contents of my overpacked backpack, buy my ticket, and get on the train. Until the train arrives in Haifa at 6:45, I listen to my music, and fade in and out of consciousness, because I really only got to bed at 2:30, which is not an amazing thing to do before a 4:45 wakeup.

Passport Status: In the front-right pocket of my jeans

6:45 am: I exit the train station and enter the bus station, after having flashed my passport at security again in order to avoid the aforementioned security check.

Panic-attack foreshadowing: It is quite possible that I mouthed off to the security guard at this point, thus hindering my chances of immediately retrieving my passport later on. I can't remember what I said or what it was in response to, but I'm pretty sure it was snarky. Bad idea.

Passport Status: In the front-right pocket of my jeans

6:55 am: I buy a coffee at the little coffee stand next to the inner-city buses. I drink the coffee and then toss out the coffee cup before boarding the 7 am bus to the university

Panic attack foreshadowing #2 : It is quite possible that when transferring the keys/phone/passport from one hand to the chair in an attempt to get my wallet out from my backpack, i left my passport on the chair.

Panic attack foreshadowing #3: Maybe I did remember to pick my passport back up, but tossing out the coffee cup before boarding the bus ensured that I would be back later to rummage through the trash for the passport.

Passport Status: tra la la la la....

7:25 am: Just as the bus is about to pull into the University, I notice that something is wrong. I frantically patted down all my pockets and checked my backpack. Nothing. I race to my room, dump out my bag, shake out all my clothes and then the bag itself. Nothing. I race back to the University busstop and beg the driver to let me check the bus for the passport (it had not yet left the station). Nothing. This is the point at which I start to cry a little. All the busdrivers get all fatherly and usher me into their little office, offer me a coffee, and get right down to business: Where did I last see the passport? When do I last remember having it? What exactly did I do and where exactly did I go once I entered the bus station after the train? I *heart* Israeli busdrivers. They set about calling the central busstation, questioning all the security guards over the phone, as well as Egged lost-and-found, as well as the coffee shop, as well as "their buddy Adin" to check the trash cans. Eventually, we just decided it would be best for me to go down there for myself and retrace my steps and eventually file a police report and call the consulate, just in case.

Passport Status: *off having a party somewhere in the Egged Hof-Carmel Central bus station*

7:59 am: I call Hebrew-Teacher-Mina to tell her that I won't be in class because I'm in the middle of a heart attack, (she's very understanding), and grab the bus going back down to the CBS. I walked my steps back and forth, and the passport is not with the front gate guard nor the back gate guard, it is not anywhere on the floor or in the trashcans, it is not at the coffee place or in the lost and found. In short, it is gone. I went back to the University to get help at the Overseas office with dealing with this, and we called the American consulate to report it missing and to set up an appointment to get a new one. I pack all my information up in my purse and head down to the police station.

Passport Status: Clearly having more fun than me. Maybe I should get the damn thing neutered. It is for sure watching me from a hidden camera with all my other lost objects, eating popcorn and laughing.
Little bastard.

11 am: I am SO tired, having been up basically for 24 hours, since I only slept for an hour and a half the night before, which qualifies more as a nap as opposed to a sleep. This mental state causes me to miss the street on which the police station is located, so I walked for 20 minutes back up the road trying to find the damn thing.
So you understand, the police station is like Platform 9 and 3/4 from Harry Potter. You can't find it unless you know exactly how to get there and even then, only if you have magical powers. I simply couldn't find it for a good half hour, though I know I was walking in the right direction. I kept going up to people and asking them where the police station was, and their immediate reaction was "are you okay? do you need a ride there? can I get you anything?". Really very sweet.
The police station itself, once I finally freaking got there, was a laugh riot. All the pimps and whores coming in for their conjugal visits, and angry mothers with daughters in tow demanding to see their sons/fathers/cousins/friends/distant acquaintances. Apparently, only one person at a time is allowed up the stairs (to the main part of the station, as opposed to just the reception desk) to visit a person. The first pair that comes (two very pregnant women) accepts this. The next pair shows up while I'm busy filling out the "Lost Objects" form and throw a stink about being separated. The policeman at the desk gave up and told them both to go up. Meanwhile, the very pregnant woman asks, "What about me?". The policeman gave a big sigh and said "ayn li koach"(I have no strength, no patience for this situation) and let her go up, too.
I love this country.
Also, it turns out that the policeman and I are BFF, because after seeing my Toronto address, he asked me if I knew the ashkenazi family that lives in Toronto. I told him that 3/4 of Torontonian Jews were of ashkenazi descent. No no no. He meant "The family who's last name is Ashkenazi", and then named his niece, who happens to be a teacher at my high school.
Small world.

Passport status: *driving me batshit crazy*

5:30 pm: I return to campus, and the sweetheart busdriver tells me "We've been looking everywhere for you; we found the passport, and we're bringing it back here tomorrow morning".

Now, 2 am friday morning: I have a passport! I'm an American citizen again! I'm no longer stateless! I'm no longer illegally in the country! Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyay!!!!!

Fin