The first bleat of my alarm snatched me out of sleep at 6:30 Saturday morning. I hastily switched it off and jumped out of bed. After dithering a bit about what to wear, I dressed, grabbed my bags, ate a quick breakfast, and set out. It was still dark and cold. Walking the block from my house to the subway station, I was glad I'd worn my woolly hat.

The train rushed in just as I entered the platform. There were more people on board than I expected for such an early hour, scattered loosely about the car, many dozing. I thought of that saying, "The city never sleeps."

At my station, I came out into the cold blue city, emerging slowly from the dawn. The grey buildings were almost at one with the grey-blue sky. The hot dog-stand man was asleep, just a slumped-over hood behind the ketchup and mustard pumps. I was in plenty of time to buy my ticket and board the coach. I hesitated about whether to go and buy a coffee or to wait inside, and decided against both.

There was already a longish queue at the boarding platform; more people than I thought take the New York bus in the early hours of the weekend. A Pakistani family collected behind me, jabbering animatedly, I gathered, over whether this was their bus.

As I stood waiting, I decided to knit. I pulled my yarn and needles from the bag and began fruitlessly hunting for the pattern. Drat, I realized, I left it at home. Oh well, I think I remember enough of it to keep me going for a while.

Then, a much more horrifying realization hit. I had forgotten my passport and my permanent resident card. I stood uselessly in line for another moment. There was no way to retrieve them in time; the bus was boarding in fifteen minutes. Conceding defeat, I left the queue and went back inside. Without those documents, I'd simply be turned back at the border. Even if the Americans let me in, the Canadians wouldn't on my return.

A ticket agent informed me that the next bus was leaving at 10 and arriving at 3, too late to make it for my sister's bridal shower/going away party. After a disappointed phone call to my other sister, who'd been scheduled to pick me up, I explained my predicament to another agent. He mumbled something that I gathered meant they couldn't refund my ticket, but could cancel the transaction. Somebody else would have to do it, who was now on break. As I waited for him to return, I weighed my options. Probably the only way I could get there in time was a car rental. If I left at 10, I'd arrive by 2, just in time for the party. In any case, I'd have to go home first to pick up my documents.

As I walked back across the parking lot from the subway station to my house, a feeble but warm light from the east touched the tops of the buildings, promising a golden day. A rich carpet of amber-gold leaves covered my neighbours' path thickly. Back inside, I booted up my computer and searched for car rentals, only to be confronted with the notice, "International car rentals require a 24-hour advance reservation period."

So that was that. I was stuck in Toronto. Maybe I'd go back to sleep.

Just then, a friend struck up an IM conversation. "I'm not working this weekend, so I'll be able to go to church tomorrow."

"So will I :(," I responded.

"Why the frown?"

I explained my situation.

"You can borrow my car," he immediately responded. "Hold on, just let me ask my wife."

A moment later he was back with the news that it was fine with her. Half an hour later he was at my door with the car, and at 10:00 I was on the road. Four hours of a beautiful autumnal drive later, I walked into my parents' house precisely on time to confront some very surprised relatives.

It was a nice weekend with family, and I got to see my brand-new nephew, only 6 days old. But that's a story for another time. In the meantime, I do wonder if I'll ever grow out of being so absentminded...