It’s 2:00 on Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend, and I’m waiting in line at the Tip O’Neil Federal Building in Boston to pick up my replacement passport for the one I lost. For the second time in two weeks.

I’ll note that I’ve had passports for 50 years before I lost my first one last month. I know it’s in my house somewhere, as I used it to fill out a form for my Lindblad Expeditions/National Geographic cruise to British Columbia and Alaska. Then, it just disappeared.