Busted

            Some years ago my wallet was stolen while we were on a trip.  It was an organized heist, and by the time we got back to our hotel and called the credit card companies about $4,000.00 had been charged in 45 minutes.  It turns out that the ATM card is actually a debit card, which I am supposed to know.  Fortunately the banks took the loss, and I was left replacing my library card, AARP membership and similar nuisance items.  Since then I have used a separate wallet for travelling to try to carry just the necessities.

            So it was that we headed off to the airport with the travelling wallet when, standing at the counter, I realized that I had no driver’s license.  No photo ID, no way to board the airplane.  I do not profile as a hijacker, but that is not the current philosophy, so I was fortunate that my credit cards and Trophy Wife’s vouching got me on the plane.  So far so good.

            Not so good on the return trip.  The TSA agent was unimpressed by whatever had gotten me  to his airport 3 days earlier, and we reached an impasse.   Credit cards, Medicare card, AAA card, office web site on my phone,  Trophy Wife’s vouching, all in vain.  I was directed “over there” and the agent got on the phone first his supervisor and then “Washington”.  My feeling was that the more he did the better I liked it, assuming that he takes the same trouble with everyone, and I somehow figured that although I am a moron, I am probably not the only moron.

            “Washington” wanted the last 4 digits of my phone number and then, oddly, the first names of my neighbors, followed by the first name of neighbors on the other side.  I can’t imagine what he was checking against, but I must have passed because the agent stamped my boarding pass, gave Trophy Wife a “Jr. TSA Agent” sticker and sent us on our way.  I am concerned that Trophy Wife is becoming overly attached to the authority vested  by her “Jr. TSA Agent” sticker.

            Another mistake I’ll only make once.