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Julie is my personal hero

14 November 2004

So, today I wrap up my morning sending my friend Dennis on his way back to Santa Barbara and playing pirates with my son. I frantically pack my bags at noon to be out of the house by 1pm to make a flight at Oakland airport to Calgary leaving at 4:19pm. Of course, I don’t get out of the house until nearly 2pm. I leave without my watch, and my rings, but I shine that on because I can’t find them (they ended up being on the phone table at home where I SWEAR I looked like 30 times). I get to Oakland to QuickPark around 2:30 or so, start pulling my bags out of my trunk, check for all the things I might need, like my wallet and my pa… FUCK! I forgot my passport at home. I do not have enough time to make it all the way home, and all the way back again, and I can’t go to Canada without it. I’m screwed. Visions of missing my plane flood my head as I get onto the Quickpark van, and I do the only thing I can do — I call Julie. I tell her of my stupidity, and I throw myself on her mercy, and she hops in the car and brings me my passport in record time, and I make my plane. I swear, my wife is a superhero. Many a lesser woman would have laughed at me, or called me names, or tell me how much of a dipshit I am. She registered a single missive that “I suck”, which indeed I do, but then she cheerfully popped the kid in the car, and brought me my passport, and was even compassionate and understanding about my mood (which was frazzled) about leaving my passport at home. Supportive, selfless and kind. Superhero.
I owe her big.

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