JUST CALL ME CHARLIE...

Hitching along like Walter Brennan, I passed back and forth from the Doll House, across the driveway, up the steps, across the deck, through the back door into the house and back out through the door across the deck, down the steps, over the driveway, into the Doll House, and on and on and on and on.  

By 6am I still had not located the passport.  I had left a trail of destruction in my wake and was no longer hitching about like Walter Brennan.  By 6am I was dragging the right leg behind me like Charles Laughton in "The Hunchback of Notre Dame".  By 7am I had lost all hope of finding the passport and had shifted to a new plan of action; getting a new passport.  

Sixty hours and counting to departure for Istanbul and  reunion with the Cotton Tops!

First stop, the post office "what to do?"

Second stop, Santa Clara County Recorder's Office for a certified copy of my birth certificate.

Third stop, San Francisco US Passport Office.

Fourth stop, Walgreens 4 blocks away to take photos and bring back to not-so-cheerful sorts at the US Passport Office.

Last stop, return to US Passport Office to fill out and submit application and documentation.

WALGREENS

Everything was running pretty smooth until I came up against a pimply-faced, spiky blue haired passport photo photographer at Walgreens.  I had 30 minutes to get the photos and hightail it back to the Passport Office.  I had been warned that if I was so much as 2 minutes late, the doors would slam shut and would not reopen until the following morning.  And this pimply-faced, spiky blue haired cabbage-for-brains "photographer" was moving like molasses!!!!!!!!!  

After an excruciating 10 minute standoff, the pimply faced blue spiked hair creep invited me to stand in front of a white screen.  He stepped up to my face holding a tiny digital camera, ordered me to smile and snapped a photo.  I was in no mood to smile and so I glared at the pimply faced blue spiky haired kid behind the lens and voila! not only my gimp leg conjured up images of Charles Laughton, but my surly, miserable mug as well.  I paid for the monster mugshots quickly and ran as best I could back up the street to the US Passport Office to submit my documents.

Oh happy day!   24 hours later I had a brand new passport in hand and it looks as if I will make it to Turkey after all...