It came a few weeks ago in the mail. An official looking envelope. Inside, the familiar navy blue of a passport stamped with “United States of America” in gold. Inside that, a garish image of myself taken by a 20-something photo clerk at the local Walgreen’s who had to remind me, “Ma’am DO NOT SMILE” as she took my photograph (first your driver’s license now your passport? Geez, what’s up with that?)
As I stood there holding this little book, I had a ginormous smile on my face. You see, I still belong to the camp of folks who, when they think of a passport, think of traveling somewhere exotic. NOT of bureaucratic red tape and post-9/11 rules that make it mandatory for everyone traveling outside of the good ‘ol U.S. of A. to have one.
I have been dreaming of a trip to Europe for years now. Pints of beer at a pub in London. Croissants and macaroons in Paris. Gelato in Rome. A chunk of every shoot I’ve booked this past year has been dedicated to our “Europe in 2010 or Bust” fund (I drew the line — just barely — at having a piggy bank devoted to said cause).
Now that Nick and I are thisclose to making the trip a reality, I keep having these irrational fears it won’t happen. Maybe because it’s the kind of venture grown-ups take (and even at 27, I sometimes still feel like a kid who shouldn’t be sitting at the grown-ups table). Or maybe it’s because I’ve watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” one too many times and now I’m afraid I’ll wind up like Jimmy Stewart, a suitcase in one hand, brochures in the other, putting that money toward fixing a giant hole brought on by a limb crashing into our roof or something (our version of the Bailey Savings & Loan).
Illogical though I may be, I’m also pretty pragmatic too. Which means when the half of me that’s not all “worst case scenario” about this trip isn’t at work, the other half is researching where to stay, what to do, how much we can save if we book our tickets for a ride on the Eye online versus some British scalper on the street.
This is the half of me that intends to remain on top — because come hell or high water, Nick and I are taking in that view over the River Seine. Mark my words (then cross fingers, followed by toes, then some salt thrown over one shoulder. Oh yeah, did I mention I’m superstitious too?)
To any followers who’ve been before me, feel free to leave recommendations on places we should hit up in the comments! WOO HOO!
by Gail Werner
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