#writersresearch and #lessonlearned Where You Find Them by Margo Hoornstra

Have you ever thought about doing something so many times and so intently, you came to believe you’d actually completed the task? Turns out I have. And, boy what a shock when I realized I hadn’t.

Picture this. Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, home port to the luxury liner cruise ship upon which my husband, Ron, and I sailed for a week to the beautiful Caribbean.

But first, some background. Aside from the pleasure, international travel comes with responsibility, and one very stringent rule. Always, always have your passport handy. A rule we adhered to without question. Once we had been cleared to board the ship, we learned it wasn’t necessary to carry our passports with us on sojourns into the Grand Caymans and Cozumel. We did keep both Ron's passport and mine securely zipped in a small attaché case and locked in the safe in our stateroom. Can’t be too careful, you know.

When it was time to leave the ship once and for all, I would transfer the proofs of US citizenship documents to my purse for easy access.

After a wonderful week, a fiftieth wedding anniversary gift we gave ourselves, it was time to disembark. The information sheet we received a few days before was straight and direct. “Upon leaving the ship, have these items in hand. Your stateroom ID card, a government issued picture ID, AND your valid passport.”

Easy enough to do.  When it was time to leave the ship once and for all, I would transfer the proofs of US citizenship documents to my purse for easy access.

In fact, upon reading the sheet, I pointed out the necessary criteria to the others in our party who may not have been as protocol aware as I. Reminding them, the night before disembarkation, I would transfer the proofs of US citizenship documents to my purse for easy access.

Done and done. Right? Well….

Early on disembarkation day.

“Please have your stateroom card, government issued picture ID and passport out for inspection.” A line of Customs and Homeland Security officers verbally repeated the instruction we’d read as I and my fellow passengers filed off the ship. With a seasoned world traveler’s confidence, I reached into the zipper compartment of my purse for the proofs of US citizenship documents I’d transferred there for easy access. From deep inside, I pulled out one solitary passport…not two. How could this happen? I had my husband’s passport in hand, but not mine.

Still walking forward, I frantically searched other areas of the bag, only to come up empty. Thieves. It had to have been thieves who snuck into our stateroom sometime in the middle of the night while we were sleeping and stole one of two passports that I’d transferred to my purse for easy access.

Now what?

I came to a stop beside my husband who had come to a stop—rather had been stopped—by the no-nonsense customs agent. I handed Ron his passport he showed to the official then added, in his never take anything too seriously voice. “Houston. We have a problem.”

“You what?” The dead-panned reply proved the man standing before us was not amused.

Still smiling, the man I married indicated me. "She obviously doesn't have her passport."

Now what? I soon found out.

With very little ceremony, I was ushered into a separate room. Alone. When my husband tried to follow, he was blocked.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” I was told. Then the door was shut and I waited. Alone.

Now what? Unsure of my fate, I sat as instructed. I waited. How long would I be held? For however many days it took to be issued a new passport? If that was even an option.

“Come with me please.”

My thoughts scattered as another uniformed agent came in to escort me to yet another room.

A holding cell maybe?

Not yet. This room contained a single desk with computer on top.

“Do you have a driver’s license on you?”

Thank God. “Yes.” I hurriedly handed it over.

Saying nothing more, he placed it before him at the base of the keyboard and started moving the mouse around.

Still, I waited.

After a while, he spoke. “Don’t worry. This happens.”

“Never to me.” By now I had at least quit shaking.

Still working the mouse and watching the screen, he glanced up and smiled. “We should be able to get you cleared.”

Should be able? “I appreciate that.”

“As I said. This happens.”

Whatever he sought from the computer wasn’t coming through though,

Now what? “By the way, thank you for your service.” In a desperate need to break the never ending silence, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You’re welcome.” With one final perusal of the computer screen, he picked up my license he handed back. “Good thing you have that enhanced. You’re free to go.”

Music to my ears. Replacing the license in my purse, I turned to do as he said.

“Do me a favor though.”

Anything. Just ask. Stopped short, I turned back. “What’s that?”

“Don’t report your passport lost or stolen until you’ve gotten home and gone through all your luggage. You may well find it.”

After such a short time, you know me so well. “Good idea. I will.”

“If you report it gone and try to get through customs in the near future, we’d have to confiscate your passport.”

Then what? “Good point. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Nodding again, I scurried out the door.

As it turned out, my passport did turn up. In my luggage. Tucked safely away in the attaché case that HAD been locked in the safe in our stateroom...and NEVER transferred to my purse for easy access.

On the up side, I now know first-hand, the procedure for being detained by US Customs and Homeland Security.

Now for the opportunity to use that information in a book sometime.

My days to blog here are the 11th and 23rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my WEBSITE.

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If You're Going to Travel, You Might Want to Go Without Me.

We've been talking about traveling off and on at The Roses of Prose lately. Yesterday's topic was a new kind of driver's license that one could use to travel from Canada to Mexico to the Caribbean and back home to the States again, eliminating the need for a passport.

I've been fortunate to travel to a lot of places, both as a single woman and in the thirteen years Calvin and I have been married. Some trips were trouble free. Some were not. A couple remain practically unbelievable. However, if you know me--the magnet for the absurd--you'll understand situations like this really could and did happen.

In 2000, I went on a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean with another single lady from my church. We flew to Florida to meet our ship. Unbeknownst to us, our luggage flew to Costa Rica for a sight-seeing trip of its own. Although we each had a carryon, I'd never traveled like this before and I'd used mine for all the things I couldn't cram into my suitcase. Like two nightgowns, a swimming suit, my jewelry, make-up, camera, three books, and five pair of shoes. Hey, don't judge.

We stood in our cabin waiting for our luggage to arrive. As the shoreline began to fade, we knew we were in trouble. So we hurried to the office to ask if they knew where our luggage was. No, they didn't. After much discussion, the ship gave us new luggage and a $200. onboard stipend to buy some new things. As a plus-sized woman for eons, I can assure you there was nothing in the ship's stores to fit me since the largest size they carried was a size 6. Even my earlobes are larger than that! I bought men's clothes much to my chagrin.

As for lingerie, I hand washed what I'd worn that day in our sink every night and hung it on the towel rack. What parts weren't dry by morning got singed with the blow dryer.

Anytime we went on shore, I bought t-shirts, bright scarves, and gauzy skirts. I looked like a flea-market gypsy.

At the end of the cruise, we flew back to Baltimore-Washington airport. Our new luggage flew to Portland, Oregon. So, we literally lost our clothes coming and going. A couple of weeks after I'd gotten home, the airlines dropped off my travel-weary suitcases at my front door. The attached tags told of their journeys. Too bad they hadn't taken any pictures, but then I'd packed the camera in my carryon.

After Calvin and I married, we traveled to Baton Rouge, Louisiana several times to visit his best friend since the second grade, Robert or Biscuit, as he was called. Biscuit passed of a massive heart attack while talking to his mother on the phone. He called her every day. We were shocked by the news and Calvin took it especially hard.

There were so many memories. The two had boarded the bus together to leave for the Army after they'd gotten their bachelors and the draft hung over their heads. Once their enlistment was over, they pursued their Masters at Howard University. Calvin in American Literature and Biscuit in Biology. They lived in a house in Washington, D.C. along with 2 other men. Enter visions of Animal House. So, Calvin and Bob had a long history. Calvin went on to teach English for 40 years. Bob eventually headed the Science and Biology Departments at Southern University. The two talked weekly by phone and laughter filled the house. Bob could have you laughing at hello; he was that kind of man.

Making last minute flight arrangements had us flying from Lynchburg, VA, to Charlotte, NC, to Memphis, TN, to Baton Rouge.  Heavy thunderstorms kept our plane on the tarmac in Memphis for 4 hours--with no air conditioning and no operational restrooms. Mention no available bathrooms and my bladder rears its nervous, ugly head.

When we finally took off, a planeful of sweaty passengers applauded. We arrived in Baton Rouge to a semi-dark airport. The huge storm had knocked out the power and the airport's interior was nearly dark. My bladder was in major panic mode! Stiff from sitting so long, we hurried off the plane and through the concourse lit by emergency lighting. Believe me, my night vision can find a restroom in darn near total darkness!

Locating the car rental agency was another matter. With the mass power outage, there was no record of our online rental agreement. Thank goodness I'd run off copies of everything, showing our credit card was indeed charged. We traveled to the hotel, having missed Bob's viewing with the flight's delay.

Did I mention our luggage never arrived? Oh yeah. We had a color-coordinated funeral to attend the next day with zero clothes. We were told everyone was expected to wear either ivory or black. No flowers were to be ordered unless they were ivory or white. Any colored flowers were set off to the side so as not to ruin the color scheme.

The next morning, we were up early with directions to a nearby mall and a rental car with a dead battery. We called a taxi, paid it to wait while we ran in, bought new clothes, kept them on, rushed out, tearing all tags off each other, and hopped in the backseat for a fast ride to the church. Calvin's hearing aid broke in the taxi. He couldn't hear the service. Back at the hotel that night, exhausted by the heat and humidity of Louisiana in May, Calvin was trying to get out of stiff, unwashed new clothes to shower. His glasses broke in half. Poor, typically calm guy yelled, "What else can possibly go wrong?"

The commode overflowed in our room.

Our rental car with the dead battery was finally replaced with another. We drove to the airport the next day with our new things in a shopping bag. The lady at the check-in counter at the airport told me we still owed over $800. for our flight tickets home. Remember that huge power outage at our arrival? All computer records were supposedly wiped out. So I showed her my printed copies of plane reservations and payments. After keying in information, she finally found our paid records. We were good to go. At last!

Not quite...

Unfortunately, she'd keyed us in as two travelers, with no luggage, going one way, and purchasing our tickets  within an hour of departure. Red flags went off to Home Land Security. We passed through normal security with my leading Calvin by the hand and repeating everything the security people asked him.

We were told to step to the side where we were slapped against the wall and frisked. Then we were separated. I was questioned on one side of the corridor by an armed guard. Calvin was questioned, too, on the other side.

Now, remember, his hearing aid is broken so he can't hear and with no glasses, he can't even see the security guard's mouth move to realize he's being questioned. The security guard yells, "What's wrong? Can't you speak English?" Oh, this isn't good, thinks I. Calvin needs help. So I patted the arm of my interrogator and said, "Hold on, I'll be right back. I need to go help my husband."

I hurried over to tell the man with Calvin that he couldn't hear or see because both his hearing aid and glasses broke during our two-day trip. I laughed. "What are the odds of that? Right?" The man had zero sense of humor. In fact, he scowled at me as if I were daft.

Meanwhile, the officer I'd walked away from thinks I'm up to something evil and calls for backup. More Homeland Security guards come running with guns drawn (I'm not making this up, folks!). Four men grabbed me. I beat them with my purse and may have questioned their paternity status which they seemed to take offense to. And all the while I kept thinking this can't be happening! We're in the United States! We were born here. Have never committed a crime... Wait, does beating an armed security guard about the head with my purse constitute a crime?

Calvin's eyesight was just good enough he could make out that shadowy male figures are shoving his wife around. He yells, "Get your filthy hands off my wife!" Which might not have been the best thing to say at the moment.

We were slammed against the wall again. Frisked for the second time. Our shoes removed and the linings cut out. My purse was emptied. My lipstick--a most dangerous weapon--was tossed. So were pens, batteries from my camera, make-up, and then they found our medicine bag. Calvin is an insulin dependent diabetic, so I had to produce documentation as to what all the medicines were and their use. Thank goodness I had that with me.

Two Dangerous Terrorists

Finally, all at once, the guards all walked away. Calvin and I embraced each other in blessed relief. One man spoke over his shoulder, "You're free to go."

Where? We'd missed our flight!

There are more stories and I won't bore you, but if you're planning a trip, you might want to go without me.

If you'd like to read more stories--fictional, this time--from Vonnie Davis, go to her Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Vonnie-Davis/e/B0059HUKMC/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1462844663&sr=1-2-ent