Several beers, a few wines and a couple of pink mojitos (don't ask) later, I was snoozing away, safely tucked into my hotel bed. Rise and shine in the morning, a leisurely breakfast with a fuzzy, hungover head and we're off to the airport... where I find the passport-shaped void in my bag.
My travelling pals Alex and Alice give me looks that say: "You forgot your passport? And they let you be Travel Editor?"
A flurry of panic. A phone call to the hotel.
"Have you checked your pockets?" asks Alex.
"Of course I've checked my pock... Ah. Got it."
A lesson absolutely, certainly reaffirmed.
Have one place you put your passport and be absolutely certain you stick to it.