Ode to the elusive Press Pass!
Why do you elude me? You say that you are on your way and yet... why have you not arrived yet? I promise to be good to you when you arrive... I will do a jig even, and, had I the skills to, I would happily perform a double-triple-loop-backflip. Yet, here I am, with an empty hand, sitting by my mailbox, longing for it to be filled with some sort of official-looking paperwork.
While our visas arrived very quickly, it seemed that our application for the press pass was misplaced. The people processing the information could not have been nicer or more helpful and have said that the information has been found now and is currently being processed. However, the neurotic New Yorker in me will remain concerned until the actual document is in my shakey, nervous hands. Joe, of course, is not concerned. He merely shrugged, ordered another round of pancakes and sucked back his third can of root beer. Joe has, it should be noted, informed me that we are in a marriage of convenience. The convenience being that he figures, I worry so much, that he need not worry at all. Convenient for him, stroke-inducing for me. The truth is, I'm sure it will all work out. The people I have spoken with have been great and want to help out, but I can also honestly say that I long for the day that I can talk about my want of the press pass in the past tense.
If you're out there press pass, come home. We promise to treat you well!!