Sunday night, a certain Australian punk-pop-rock four piece performed without a certain brightly coiffed bandmate. 5 Seconds of Summer played London's Capital FM Jingle Bell Ball sans Michael Clifford. Gasp! The reason: Clifford’s passport went M.I.A. while the band was in the States, so he could not leave the U.S. of A. with Calum Hood, Luke Hemmings, and Ashton Irwin. (Doesn't it take, like, a month to get a new passport? Oof, hopefully he can get that ish expedited.)
This morning, I woke up to an e-mail from Clifford's passport. I couldn't tell you why the passport contacted me of all people, but it did. The passport wanted to explain what happened and offer up an apology. The message was sent from a burner e-mail account and an untraceable IP address. The passport refused to provide its current location (it explains why in the letter below), so no, I do not know where it is.
I copy and pasted the e-mail below:
I hope this finds you well. At the very least, I hope you’re doing better than I am. Physically, I’m fine. Perfect condition. Not a bent page in sight.
But emotionally, I am not fine. I let Michael down. I let an arena full of fans down. I let myself down. I am not ready to show my face. I am too riddled with shame. So, I will not be revealing my location. Not yet.
Anyway, here are some letters.
Dear Everybody at the Jingle Bell Ball,
I know Mikey shouldered the blame, but this is all my fault. I am so sorry. I’m sure Calum, Luke, and Ashton put on a terrific show, but I know Michael was missed. How could you not miss Michael?
Here’s how it happened: While touring around the U.S., I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to stretch my walking sticks. So, one afternoon, I decided to hop out of my designated spot in my designated bag, let myself out of the hotel, and take a walk around the city.
After wandering aimlessly for about 40 minutes, I realized I didn't know where I was. I called out to pedestrians for directions back to the hotel. Not a single pedestrian heard me. This was disappointing, but not surprising. I am very small and my voice matches my size. My words were no match for the din of the city.
A few days later, I managed to make my way back to the hotel where the band was staying. (And yes, my walking sticks were achin'.) But it was too late. The band had already checked out. I walked out of the hotel, caught a bus, and left the city. I ended up where I am now. (I will not disclose that location. I'm too embarrassed about this entire debacle to face anyone just yet.)
I attempted to contact Michael to no avail. I gave up when I read he had to miss the Jingle Bell Ball in London. Because of me. BECAUSE OF ME.
I should've never left the hotel. I should've stayed put in my designated spot in the designated bag. Again, so sorry for my mistake.
Michael Clifford’s Passport
I am so so so so so so so so sorry. Please forgive me. I truly did not mean to cause inconvenience.
If you want to replace me, go ahead. I deserve that.