So as Suzy and I were strolling up to the window at the Influenza Palace to check in, I reach for my wallet, hand the nice lady my credit card, and pee myself a little when she asks for my ID.
It's not in my wallet. Hmmmm...I frequently just jam it in my pocket after I clear security.
Hmmmmm....This jacket has a lot of pockets. 11 to be exact. God bless Orvis and their clothing for travelers, I bet I put it in the secret inside zip pocket with my bankroll.
Pocket with iPod?
Pocket with digital camera?
Repeat that scenario eight times and then relent and get Suzy's driver's license for the nice lady so I can get our shit to the room, take a well-deserved piss, then go through my backpack for that little fucking piece of laminated plastic.
Done, elevator up, drop shit on bed, piss like a racehorse, and then, in an ever-increasing dervish of frantic hillbilly, proceed to sling the entire contents of my backpack all over the room looking for my license. I even checked the DVD drive in my laptop.
Nope. Fuck. How am I going to get home?
OK, can't fix it now, let's go get drunk.
There, in the pile of electronics, playing cards, card protectors, Chilly's Stardust chip, digital voice recorder, earbuds, paperback book and random dealer button that used to inhabit my backpack's front pouch - my current student ID.
See, when I made an abortive attempt to get my Master's degree in 2003, I was issued a minty-fresh Winthrop University ID card, which doesn't expire until 2008. I carry this around because it still gets me discounts at the movies, and the shit they're producing these days sooooo isn't worth $9.25.
BINGO! I now have official, state-issued (ok, at least state-university issued) identification. We are golden!
"Honey, don't you thin you should maybe call the airline to see if they'll accept that?"
Damn. She's pretty smart. If I call them now, I don't have to throw a hissy fit at the airport, get "detained" by burly TSA women-hulk-things, get subjected to body cavity searches and sent to Gitmo.
"USAirways, may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah, uhm, well, I'm a big dumbass and lost my license somewhere between security in Charlotte and getting off the plane in Las Vegas, but I have a student ID. Can I get home with that?"
"Well, yes. But let's see if they've found your ID in Charlotte. Are you a 6'1" overweight hillbilly with brown hair who lied about his weight on his driver's license like some kind of vain chick?"
"Mostly, but no I didn't lie about my weight, I just got FATTER since that license was issued."
"Well, they do have your license in Charlotte and will mail it to your home. Your college ID will be fine to get you through security. Thank you for flying USAirways."
"Thank you, not that I have a choice, flying out of Charlotte and all."
So all my travel tribulations and worrying were for naught, so I think the G-Vegas boys should be able to breeze through security. Besides, it's not like anybody in Greenville or Memphis can actually read, can they?