Wish You Were Here

Picollo's Specialty Italian Restaurant in the newly constructed area of the Royal Decameron.

We had a 'close call' and we had not even left home yet. Late Sunday night I was looking at our flight tickets and noticed that my name was spelled wrong. This kind of slip up was never a problem before the world became paranoid about safety. Apparently the name on the flight information had to match, exactly, the name on the passport. I hustled over to the travel agent first thing Monday and she informed that yes, it was a good thing I had noticed. The information they took from me was accurately recorded in their files, but the airline issued the ticket in a revised spelling, the way somebody thought it should be spelled. Had our flight been to the USA, there is no doubt that I would not be permitted on board the plane with a discrepancy such as that. Going to Mexico is a lightly different story, but still ugly and complicated.

It is no wonder that some people are too nervous about travelling to get up off their easy chair. Anyway, wish you were here, or at least that is what people almost always say when they communicate with those unlucky enough to not travel with them.