I have told this story so many times, that I can't remember whether or not I have ever mentioned it in a blog. I know that I covered it in the draft of a novel I am writing that details the events of the time my dad nearly died from drowning in the Cayman Islands. Since that novel may never reach completion, I've decided to share this part of the story now.

To catch you up on the history of the event, I'll tell you what led up to it. It is quite simple. I was minding my own business teaching Blanca Balli's fifth graders in the Carson Elementary School computer lab. At that time, I was a full time CIT (Campus Instructional Technologist). My job was to assist teachers as they integrated technology into their lessons.

Normally, I did not answer my cell phone during work. Instead, I used it as more of an answering machine and returned calls later. On this day, there was something strange about the number that had called me. It seemed to come from overseas. Knowing that my parents were out of the country, I answered it. The woman on the line spoke in a heavy accent that I could barely understand. I thought I was making out the words, "You daddy drown". I told the woman to find someone else to talk to me.

The next voice that came on the line had an English accent. It was a doctor from a hospital in the Cayman Islands. He calmly explained that my father was involved in a drowning accident. He was unconscious, and they were not sure he would survive. They had placed him in a medically induced coma and wouldn't know anything about his condition until he was brought out of that.

I stayed on the phone listening to the doctor with feelings of dread and anxiety building in me like nothing I had ever experienced before. He told me that his immediate concern was for my mother. They were worrying about her because of her known heart condition, and because she was not handling the situation well. Somebody from the family needed to get there soon to be with her. I asked to speak with her, but when she came to the phone, I couldn't get her to calm down enough to talk to me. I told her that either my sister or I would be there as soon as possible, and told her to put the doctor back on.

The doctor told me that a rep from Carnival Cruise lines had just arrived and wanted to talk to me. When she came on the line, she talked me through arrangements for getting someone down to the Cayman Islands. I told her I would have to call my sister and determine which one of us would be the best suited for the journey at the time. She gave me a direct line to call back when I knew who would be going.

I hung up the phone just as Blanca Balli arrived to take her class. As soon as they were gone, I crossed the hall, locked myself in the restroom, and threw up. Then I went back to the office and called the principal. Unfortunately, she was off campus, but was expected to return soon. For some crazy reason that I can not explain to this day, I could not call anyone else to explain what was going on and ask permission to leave school. Instead, I called Rachel, my rock.

Rachel, got me calmed down enough to be rational. She told me to call my sister right away and make a decision of who would be going. Nothing else, could be worked out until then. I listened to her and got my sister on the phone. She is a self-employed woman, and normally would have been free to be the one to go. However, she was involved in a major project. She was willing to go , if I could not, but, we decided that I would be the best choice at the time.

I called Carnival cruise lines and told them it would be me. They told me they would get back to me within an hour with all of my arrangements. Carnival would fly me down to the Cayman Islands, put me in a hotel with my mother, then fly us back either with my father, or his remains. It was still uncertain whether or not he would survive.

I called Rachel back. She immediately went to her principal, explained the situation and left school. She headed straight to our bank and took cash out for me to use when I traveled. I finally got a hold of my principal, told her the situation, and went home to wait for the call from Carnival.

That call came shortly after Rachel joined me at the house. I would be flying out of San Antonio International early the next morning. A taxi had been arranged to pick me up and get me to the airport. I was told that all I needed to have with me was my photo ID and birth certificate, which Rachel had found for me and placed in a ziplock baggie. All arrangements and expenses were going to be handled by the cruise line. Two escorts would meet me at the airport in Miami and handle everything from there.

I got my suitcase out and packed for the trip. I had to go on line to research the Cayman Islands. I really had no idea what or where they were, although my friend, Susan Dehan, went there for vacation with her family sometimes. Somehow, even after studying up on them, I still thought they were owned by the United States like the Virgin Islands. In fact, on the final flight, they asked me to declare what money I was carrying, and when I asked why, it was explained to me that I was going to a foreign country. Yep... I was that stupid.

I could tell you that I went to bed early to rest up for the trip and got a great night's sleep. I could tell you that, but it would be a bold-faced lie. I barely slept at all. Even after hurling in the school restroom, the butterflies in my stomach never subsided. I also had a cold sweat that would not stop. Nothing about me was restful. I was living a nightmare, and it showed.

The taxi was waiting for me as promised in the wee wee hours of the morning. With an increasing sense of doom, I got in and put my seat-belt on. The driver asked me where I was going, and I briefly explained the situation. As we neared the airport, he asked if he could pray with me. I told him he could and immediately broke down. His simple gesture was really touching, but it also took away the tiny thread that was helping me hold on. He didn't pull directly up to the departure area. Instead, he stopped the taxi, gave me some tissues, and talked me down from the cliff. We prayed again, and he drove on up. After he got my suitcase for me, I handed him a tip, which he refused. Instead, he grabbed me in a bear hug and told me that everything would be okay. I nearly lost it again.

My journey to the Cayman Islands was in three parts. First I had to fly to Houston and change flights. From there, I had to fly to Miami, where I would meet up with my escorts and board a flight to the Caymans. Everything went smoothly until Miami.

As we approached Miami, I could see a couple of thunderstorms in the area. I am not a comfortable passenger in the sky. The storms increased my state of agitation. Fortunately, they had no obvious effects on the flight. We seemed to work our way around them. Our landing was soft and easy. Taxiing to the terminal took a while, as there were a LOT of flights coming and going. Miami is a very busy airport.

Unfortunately for me, Miami's airport was undergoing some major upgrades and remodeling. That meant I had to follow some pretty bizarre routes from one concourse to the next. Most of it involved walking through those walled construction tunnels. Some of them included going up and down stairs. One included a trip on an elevator. After about thirty minutes of walking through the maze, I finally reached the correct area for my next flight. I was no longer in the secured area, and would have to approach the ticket booth and go through the security check again. I was so tired that I could barely think straight. I felt as if I were just a cow being led to slaughter- blindly following the other cows ahead of me.

I finally reached the ticket counter for whatever airline I was flying on. I don't remember which one it was. I stood patiently in line until my turn came up. Then, I told the agent where I was headed. She asked my for my ID. I gave it to her. She asked me for either a passport or birth certificate. I gave her my birth certificate, still securely tucked into a zip lock baggie.

The clerk looked at my birth certificate, then handed it back to me. She asked me to take it out of the baggie. I did so with trepidation. After all, it was kind of crisp and threatening to disintegrate at any minute. I gingerly handed it to her. She looked at me as if I were trying to perpetuate some hilarious joke. I looked her in the eye and asked if there was a problem. She looked me back in my eyes and said, "Sir, this is expired".

My heart stopped. I had come so far. I was so close to reaching my parents in their hour of need. I could not wrap my brain around the fact that my journey was over, and I would never get to them. Vomit traveled up from my stomach. Dizziness took hold of my brain. I was about to go under for real. Then, something spoke to me. It was a tiny doubtful whisper of nothing that asked, "How can a birth certificate expire?" Suddenly, I was back to reality. I asked the agent to call a manager.

When the manager finally came to the counter, I was shocked. I felt like I knew him. If any of you have seen the movie The Bird Cage, you would have recognized him, also. The manager was a dead ringer for Hank Azaria's character Agador the maid. He listened as the agent explained the situation to him in Spanish. Then he took the birth certificate in his hand and very dramatically asked, "What you want him to do honey, be born again?" The people around us started laughing. The agent looked at me with venom in her eyes. Then she stamped all my paperwork with attitude and sent me one my way.

It was amazing to me that my birth certificate was so old and fragile that someone would actually tell me it was expired. Hence my title... I Must Be Ancient!

In all fairness, I should wrap up the story a bit. I hooked up with my escorts and flew to the Cayman Islands. My dad survived. My mother and I enjoyed a pampered (thank you Carnival) weekend. I came home. All of that is in my aforementioned novel, which may or may not be finished someday. However, since I am old enough to have outlived my birth certificate, I would not bet on seeing it published!