Travel woes

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I can only imagine what travel woes would have been like for the Downton Abbey version of myself & Raj. With our vacation thwarted, would I exclaim "our holiday has been foiled!" while shaking my fist, talking feverishly to my betrothed on our broken-spoked carriage. 

Or, would the futuristic Judy Jetson form of myself have a tantrum getting out of Orbit City to catch some intergalactic rock n' roll show with her hunky heartthrob, Sky Rocket, or Mickey Nebula, only to have thier flying robot car's engine putter out?

It's a timeless all-era-inclusive problem any couple can face, and it's hit this dude & dudette hard.  With our last two vacations derailed, I'm hoping that these relationship tests (and they are tests) + survival will indicate a good honing of the skills we'll need to maneuver life together.  The lemonade-from-lemon technique has helped us a lot. 

This past fall we went to Austin, just two hours away, for a friend's wedding. It was the week before the A Couture Cause calendar launch party and my life was insane. Taking a car to Austin afforded me the luxury of not packing, and just taking my weekend wardrobe on hangers that I could hang from the hand pull usually reserved for dry cleaning. After lots of celebration and the proper amount of wine nuptial celebrations entail, the next morning, (read: hungover) said car was missing.  Luckily, our car was unpacked with the exception of two very important jackets: a classic Burberry trench, his, and a silver Mongolian lamb fur cropped jacket, mine. We had even done all of our holiday shopping in Austin's charming downtown boutiques with the little daytime we ever have together and almost left it along with our jackets to get stolen too. It was a beautiful day though in ATX, and having one car less didn't stop us from enjoying it. After all, we had the day off, the weather was nice, and we had a rented condo within walking distance of fine tex-mex. At the end of our police-report filled sunny day, we caught a mega bus, my arms full of shopping bags and clothes on hangers, like that high maintenance kind of girl, back to the city of our daily grind.

This go round involved airports and airport security, which we all know is never fun. I had found the deal of a century to Bali, Indonesia and sprung to take myself and my new fiancé around the world, since we could do it for an even-affordable-to-me $1,400. It would take 36 hours or so, the first leg being 16 hours to Japan, where we had just enough time to have sushi at an acclaimed restaurant in the Narita airport we had read about. I had found the 16 hours to go by smoothly, filling them with two Tina Fey starring movies, as well catching up on the latest seasons of Downton Abbey and Girls. I didn't even get desperately board enough to need to buy the Wifi! Once we landed, Raj felt the pocket of his jacket where his passport was lastly seen, and like the car in the previous story, it was also gone without a trace. We are seasoned travelers: both first generation American with childhood summers filled visiting our far east families. He's lived in Bombay, Singapore, worked in China, and I've enjoyed Amsterdam no less than three times. To be blunt, wtf? We still don't know where the passport went, but they don't let you do much without it, so they sent us back to the U.S. The silver lining is, the last flight out of Tokyo to America that night was Honolulu: beautiful beaches with weather that matched the contents of our suitcases and that we were desperate enough to charge the limits of our credit cards on five star hotels where I'm writing this now, If you look at it like I could have bought the two designer bags I've had my eye on, then you're looking at it all wrong. We have these two perfectly imperfect travel disaster stories that will last a life time, which is something finally convenient, because we're spending them together.