Passports

So I’m going on a trip to work next month. For this, I am required to obtain a passport. Right. Because I might just try to take over the world by setting up my evil villan lair in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. I’m still a little startled that you have to have a passport to get into Canadaland.

When I went to get my passport renewed (can you believe it’s been ten years?? I look like I’m 12 in the old one…) Jan the Post Office Lady took me in the back room, which scared me – there’s a reason they call it “going postal.” Turns out, that back room is full of people who aren’t working, just making jokes and trying to get people to laugh during the passport photo session.

“Don’t smile. Don’t look angry. It’s going to flash, THEN it will take the picture.” In the background, the other postalpeople were making goofy comments. How hard is it to NOT laugh when someone says “Don’t laugh!!” Between the trying not to look too happy or angry, I ended up looking…high. Seriously. My eyes are half shut. My mouth is all squinched up. My face looks huge. I look like a Midwestern housewife applying for her passport to finally get that trip to Cancun.

As long as they let me into Canada…

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