New York, Day Zero

I'm always paranoid about having forgotten something whenever I go on a trip, heck even when I go to work. I can't tell you how many times I've stopped as I was backing out of my driveway, so I could double check that I'd shut and locked the side door, or left the coffee pot on, etc. I guess I have a touch of O.C.D.

Anyway, I got off work at 6:30 a.m. on the morning of Friday, 12 September, went home, and commenced with last minute laundry, packing, cleaning, and so on. I'll bet I counted the contents of my suitcase three times that morning and early afternoon. The same held true for my carry on bag (or my man-purse, as my brother Chris likes to call it).

At about 3:30 p.m. Chris showed up, we threw my stuff in his car, along with Max. I did one last walk around to make sure I had left nothing undone, and we were off.

First stop, The Animal House, the kennel where I board Max when I go on trips. Chris and I jokingly refer to it as 'the death camp' since Max always seems to lose weight and shed like there's no tomorrow every time I put him up there. Once Max was safely dropped off, Chris and I were off to Minneapolis.

I've made that particular trip so many times that the only entertainment I get is to note how and what kind of new buildings there are at certain points along the way (mostly between Owatonna and Faribault, an area of apparently vigorous economic development). I did get and give into the urge to check one more time that I had brought my wallet with me, and I had.
Chris and I get to Minneapolis, find a hotel near the airport and get a room. It was a Comfort Inn, or something like that, with an attached Outback Steakhouse. Naturally we had dinner there. When it was over, since I had agreed to pay for all meals during the trip, I get out my wallet. Only to discover that it was the wrong wallet!

You see, my dear father had insisted that I take a smaller 'travel' wallet to New York, and had given me a couple that he had lying around. At first I just took them to humor him, but eventually I decided that it might not be a bad idea. I certainly didn't need to take everything I normally keep in my wallet to New York. All I really needed was my driver's license, First Citizen's and Bank of America debit cards, my Visa card, my insurance card, the number of the kennel, and a little cash. I made up such a travel wallet, and stuck it the pocket of the lightweight coat I was planning on taking along. When it came time to leave, while I was double checking, I grabbed my old wallet off the desk in my computer room, and forgot to bring my coat.

To make a long story short (too late, I know), I went back up to the room and checked all of my bags. No new wallet. Chris called home, thinking that our father could run over to my house, get the wallet, and bring it up or at least meet us part way. Unfortunely, Pops was out of town attending his high school reunion, and Mom didn't have a key to my house. So Chris and I drove back to Mason City (a two hour trip), snagged my wallet (and the coat) and went back to Minneapolis. We got back a little before midnight, hit the sack, and were up and on our way at 5 a.m. the next morning.

That was the one glitch for the entire trip, and it's a good idea Chris wanted to go up the night before, else I might not have discovered my mistake until I was at the airport.

Of course, this whole affair will no doubt make me even more paranoid as I get ready for future trips, but I'll just have to cope. And oddly, I don't suffer nearly as much, if at all, when I'm getting ready to make the trip back home. I just throw my stuff in my bags, take a quick last look around and walk out the door without a backward glance. Weird, huh?