Getting There and Away: Chapter 1

Dorothy got to Oz pretty easily, at least by my terms - she hitched a ride on a tornado with some cows and her little dog, Toto. Not to belittle the tornado drama going on in the midwest these days, but at this point, I'd kill to have a tornado give me a lift to Oz.

This is the first of my chronicles of my journey to Australia. Around about the end of July or first week of August I should be landing Down Under, but the gods aren't making it very easy for me. It really is going to take an act of God to get me there on time, in one piece, and with a marginal level of sanity.

The first little wrinkle in my plan: A couple weeks ago we find out that all of the UVA students have missed the formal deadline AND that we all need two professor references - ASAP. We all get a week to pull together our transcripts, an essay on "Why I want to study in Melbourne," and two academic references, among other minor things.

One of my professors never responded to my request, turned up sick the next week and I was basically high and dry for my second reference. On Tuesday, T-3.5 days, I sent a frantic email to the coordinator who managed to concoct an acceptable solution.

Okay, I thought to myself, now just have to get my passport and visa, my ticket, and I'll be set. It was at this time that I realized that I need a valid passport to get my visa - really, I suspected this, and I should've looked into it sooner. See, when I got back from Brazil a few years ago my passport just vanished. Seriously. I had it leaving the airport, but later on it was nowhere to be found. Passport takes about 6 weeks, visa takes 4-8 weeks. That means I should've applied for my passport...about 3 weeks ago. Fuck.

Immediately download and fill out passport form. Rush to post office with terrible photos in hand. Napoleon-complex passport man tells me I need a certified birth certificate or my previous passport. Hmmm...passport is in a blackhole with the lost socks. Birth certificate is in Georgia. Passport man, I do not like you!

Make frantic phone call to mother. My dad overnights my birth certificate the next day, but apparently in the U.S. Postal Service overnight doesn't really mean overnight - it means two days later. Awesome.

Receive birth certificate on Saturday. Passport office is only open Monday through Friday. Still have time, but will have to pay $60 for expedited passport service. Oh well, is my own damn fault - yet again am paying for the luxury of procrastination.

Get up early to get to post office around 9am in order to get this process on the road. Pull into post office parking space. Gather application, lost passport form, shitty passport photos, and birth certificate. Reach for wallet inside backpack. Fuck! Wallet is inside purse, not backpack, because I went to the grocery store yesterday. Must return home to get wallet.

The only good part of this whole ordeal is that the post office is pretty close to my apartment, so while this was annoying, I was still just sort of going with the flow. Upon arriving at apartment, greeted at the door by roommate holding my lunch. Oops. Forgot that, too.

Grab purse, race back to post office. Exhale as I exit the car, finally. This will be over soon.

Burst into post office. See college-aged guy sitting in the office (only one person allowed in there at a time). Think, "no big deal, will just wait." Look around to see about 10 people sitting down in chairs in the post office. Do not appear to be mailing packages of any sort. Instead, appear to be holding passport applications.

One father is cutting down passport photos to 2 x 2 in. for his family of four. Oh. My. God. Seriously? Seriously? The next group is about three rednecks who I just know aren't going to be speedy in this situation. Next to them is an elderly couple. I take my place in line.

I wait about 10 mins. Person inside office still has not emerged. Thoughts of studying for finals and preparing for mock trial are pounding in my brain. "Do NOT have time for this. Do NOT have time for this."

And so I left. Let's count: That's now 3 unsuccessful trips to the post office just to get my fucking passport. Granted, it's my flakiness that's causing all this, but one can't help but wonder: is this an omen? Is this entire trip going to be a disaster? A terrible idea? Maybe I should pull the ripcord on this one and abort the mission....

This afternoon, at 1:30 I will make my final attempt of the day. Stay tuned to find out what happens there and whether the visa application is as exciting as this! If we're lucky, in a little less than four months I'll be posting about my heinous 25 hour flight from LA and the screaming children and smelly fat guy sitting next to me. But damn it, I'll be there and hopefully not on the island crashed with the Lost crew (although...Sawyer is there...might not be so bad...)

One of these guys must've plowed through the part of my brain devoted to getting to Oz.