Dude, WTF is my passport

It's 29th March, 21:00h; one and a half hours before the flight to Melbourne is scheduled to depart. I left Melbourne on the 15th of July last year, so I'm looking forward to the first visit, though not nearly as much as my Mum is - apparently to her it seems like it's been 7 years since I left. I'm all packed and ready to leave the apartment, taxi has given me a call and is now waiting in front of the lobby. Before exiting, I do the last, formality like, check for the three essentials: money, passport and ticket.
Money: wallet is in the pocket - check.
Passport: looking into the school bag's pocket where I usually put it when travelling - not there. Whoops, ok sometimes I put it into this pocket here as well, hmmm... not there either. Check the next pocket, and next, and still nothing... Well I'm VERY sure I've put the passport into the plastic wallet, the one travel agents give you when they issue a ticket, together with the ticket, and then all together, into the school bag.
Ticket: for most of the day it was on the, now overfilled with stuff, table - it's not there anymore.
So the back tracking begins. David and I must of looked everywhere - at least twice! I even unpacked the things Vesna packed after the Thailand trip and left for me to bring over. There was no logical sense for the passport to be in that bag, but the logic has left the building quite a while ago now.
At first it was funny... sure ha ha ha, dude where wtf is my passport. But after we covered all of the apartment - I looked into the fridge, closets, n many drawers that I don't even use - in some 15 min or so I started feeling the despair, and then anger, and then after some yelling flipped the table. I lost it... it wasn't really bad losing type, I was aware of my actions, and yet choose to do so (picked this expression from Vesna, who was 'choosing to' smoke while on the holiday - in that respect she's still on the holdiay :). No, that acting out didn't make me feel any better, actually quite the opposite. Note for a next time: (try hard/er to) just keep laughing!

The fact that I arrived back from two week long Sabah adventure just the night before, and was quite tired the whole day, yet I was still running around and trying to do quite a number of things that I should have just rescheduled after the Melbourne trip, was not helping. And of course, the taste of missing the flight just a month ago was still quite fresh.

Well after a while, there I was, calmly sitting on the floor of the apartment that looked as though it was just broke in by the robbers who were looking for that one gem. I gave up on the passport fight and on catching the flight. And then, somehow, the image of the little bag appeared between the ears. The little bag I recently bought for packing the few things I take when walking around a holiday destination. It occurred to me that I haven't looked into it. I immediately remembered that I've packet it into the secondary big pocket of the school bag. And there it was, the plastic wallet, with the passport and ticket inside, nicely packed next to the little bag inside the school bag, where I thought it should've been all along.

Where would the entertainment be without our stupidity...

Taxi driver waited for half an hour in front of the lobby. He got me to the airport in 30 minutes but dropped me off at the wrong terminal (Note: Qantas at Changi is on Terminal 1). At info desk they told me they cannot do anything for me, I just have to catch the sky-train to the other terminal and report to the check-in desk. After some screaming and backpack kicking across the nicely polished airport floor (yep, briefly lost it again), lots of running and almost leaving behind Vesna's suit before boarding the sky-train. I finally managed to check-in at 22:15, 15 minutes before the departure. Budget airlines, Tiger and AirAsia, have the strict policy of check-in no later then 45min before departure, to my surprise Qantas didn't say/ask anything -> Lucky...!