i pity the fool

{long, whiny rant ahead. consider yourself warned.}

Unfortunately, this time, I'm the fool. 

I try to keep things upbeat around here.  It's not hard, my life is pretty great and when it's not, I'd really rather not focus on the bad things by writing about them.  It's usually all sunshine, puppies and rainbows in my little corner of the interwebs.  I like to think Pollyanna would be proud.  {You know - Pollyanna, find the good in everything, yada yada. btw - i love me some hailey mills.  Parent Trap, Miss Bliss - what's not to love?}

But today - I. Am. Not. Happy.  And I have no one to blame but myself. 

{I shall now proceed to blame my husband, the Atlantis resort, and the federal government for the mess I'm in.}

You see, I never wanted to change my name.  {cue the part where I blame my husband} While my maiden last name was pretty sucks-ville, I was content to keep it.  I lived 28 years with that last name.  It was on my first report card, my high school letterman jacket, my law school diploma and was monogrammed on more items than I can count.  It was my name. 

Before we even got engaged, The Mister and I had many talks about how I felt about changing my name.  While I wasn't a fan of the idea, he felt strongly about it.  I explained to him my reasons - you've heard them, I won't repeat them - and he said I was blowing smoke up his, well you know that too.  He thought my real reason was "I'm an independent woman and I'm not doing it."  {He may have been right. Sort of.} Over time, however, we both came around to see each other's points of view.  By the time we were engaged, he was happy with whatever I decided, though I knew he'd love it if I took his name, and I wasn't sure what to do.  I was, after all, still an independent woman.  I had accomplished a lot with that name.  Why change it?  But, my last name was sort of crummy... and his is a GREAT last name for a lawyer.  Plus, people were going to call me "Mrs. So and So" whether I changed my last name or not. 

The wedding came and went and I still hadn't decided.  {And I'll be darned if 90% of the wedding cards weren't made out to Mr. & Mrs. So and So anyway.}  After 3 or 4 months of being questioned by just about everyone but my husband as to what the hell I was going to be calling myself, I finally decided to add his last name to the end of mine.  A compromise with myself I guess you could say.  So, I went to the social security office and the DMV and changed my name.  I changed all my work documents and updated Facebook, of course.  You know, the important things. 

Or so I thought. 

You know what I didn't change?  My passport.  You know where I'm going in 18 days?  The Bahamas.*  Do you know the current turn-around time on an expedited request for a name change on a passport?  Three weeks. 

I'm totally hosed. 

So, guess what I get to do to remedy this situation?  Take a day off work, drive to Miami and get the passport changed in person.  People who haven't been to Miami think it looks like this:

It actually looks like this:

On a good day.  And it's never a good day.  The trip is close to four hours with minimal traffic.  The last time Miami had minimal traffic was 1962.  Kill me now.  And I better not get lost because my Spanish el-sucko's and it can be tough to find people who speak English down there.  {I'm not joking or being racist - I'm serious.  Last time I got lost visiting a friend on the way to Keys and I had to go to two gas stations and a Mickey D's before finding someone who spoke English at a....wait for it....Taco Bell.  I wish I was kidding.}

I thought I'd found a pretty good solution to this problem.  My sister is flying to Miami for business on Friday on her company's private plane and she offered me a spot on the plane.  Perfect.  The plane ride is less than an hour, I'll rent a car at the airport, hop over  to the passport office and get this worked out, meet her back at the airport and be home in time to get in a few hours at the office that afternoon. 

The federal government had other plans.  {time to blame the federal government} You see, Friday will be 16 days before I leave for the Bahamas.  And the feds won't let you make an appointment at the passport office until 14 days before you are scheduled to leave the country.  They do not care that the difference of two days means you will have to drive at least 8 hours by yourself to Miami instead of hopping a private a plane for free.  They said I can call back on Sunday to schedule an appointment.  grrr  

So, there you have it.  My obnoxious rant.  Poor baby, has to drive to Miami so she can go on vacation to the Bahamas.  If you're wondering, I know exactly how ridiculous and spoiled I sound.  And I do in fact realize that this is entirely my fault. 

I pity the fool. 

*{wherein I blame the Atlantis} We booked our flight through the Atlantis because they're offering an awesome by-one-get-one free flight deal.  What's not awesome?  They didn't ask for our passport info. when we booked the flights like the airlines usually do.  Had we gotten the head's up at booking, I could have made the expedited cut-off and handled this via the mail.