orty-five minutes into the drive to the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport for my return flight to Russia, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten something very important.
I turned to my dad, who was behind the wheel. “I don’t have my passport with me,” I said.
I had never forgotten my passport. Worse, the forgotten document was tucked into the side pocket of my backpack with my wallet.
It may have been easier to reschedule my flights for the next day, but I really had to get to Moscow on schedule. I had organized a Fourth of July party at the office for 5:00 the next afternoon, and I had a lot of work to accomplish ahead of a trip the following week to the Ukraine.
So my dad pushed the speed limit getting us back to the house, then quickly made the trip back to the airport. We arrived at exactly 10:30 a.m., the time my... »