Over Christmas break, I mailed in my application for a passport. Starting the day after I got back to school, I began faithfully checking my mailbox every single day for that little booklet that would grant me access to England, France, Scotland, and Wales. I mean, I knew it would take a few weeks, but I was holding out hope that my passport application was somehow just so wonderful that the process would be sped up. After weeks of endless let-downs my enthusiasm maybe only slightly faded. I still checked the mail every day, but I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to wait for weeks on end. This weekend was my roommate Alyssa's birthday, and on Saturday night we were having a party at our apartment. Our mail generally comes around 4:00, but the afternoon passed in such a blur of grocery shopping, cleaning, and baking that I realized five minutes before our friends were coming that I had neglected my daily trip to the mailbox. I figured that since I had to take the ...