Passport? What passport?

I have had a passport since I was 14 years old, I've travelled all over the world, lived in third world countries, given lectures on flying internationally and helped dozens of people travel efficiently.

And yet, here I sit on the computer watching the snow fall while I pout. I should be finishing up my second or third umbrella garnished drink wondering which bikini I will wear first after I sleep in tomorrow morning. Instead I'm back in Idaho waiting to catch tomorrow's flight out. I keep trying to squint and pretend the snow is actually a tropical white sand beach. It's not really working. All because I decided not to bring my passport with me to Seattle where I was supposed to catch a plane to the Bahamas. Of course it is marginally funny now, after I've cried more than a few times and said the f word so much that I'm afraid I won't be able to kiss my mom with this mouth anymore.