At some point on Saturday night, in New Orleans, very very far away from home, I realized my driver's license was missing. I dumped out my purse, went through all of my pockets, combed through the suitcase - nothing. I decided I'd probably lost it in the SeaTac airport, because I'm the sort of person who stuffs her boarding pass and ID in her back pocket while going through all the airport indignities, instead of in a purse or wallet or whathaveyou and, well, this is exactly the sort of thing my FIL likes to warn me about.
I called my airline - they were unhelpful. I called Phillip - he didn't answer. I decided that I would just drink a little bit more that night, the better to accomplish my only plan, which was Hope For The Best. I mean, I couldn't possibly be the first tourist in New Orleans to return to the airport without photo identification. Not that I had any idea what would happen and for all I know MAGGIE CHEUNG is on the No Fly List, but I just didn't see the point of the New Orleans airport security detaining an overtired 30-something mommyblogger for not following FIL's advice and wearing a vest with ninety-seven zippered pockets so nothing falls out.
I got to the airport right on time for someone who has not lost her license. All attempts to get there early were thwarted by Saints traffic. (Also ripped up streets, one ways, u-turns, and imbecilic drivers.) (Not MY driver. She was lovely.) I tried not to panic about this either. (My preferred method of Not Panicking is stuffing my phone in my pocket, closing my eyes, and chanting Hail Marys.)
At the airport I walked straight up to the ticket agent, put on my best Yes, I'm Well Aware I Am A Huge Idiot face, and said, "I have my boarding pass on my phone, but I lost my driver's license and I don't have any other photo ID." (Side note: HOW COOL is having your boarding pass on your phone?! SO COOL.) She didn't even give me a second glance, though. Just typed typed typed and handed me a printed boarding pass and sent me off to security.
Where, again, there was no line. Just a youngish TSA dude checking IDs and boarding passes. I put on my Face again, apologetically explained my lack of identification, and again, No Big Thing. I think if I'd been in Seattle they would have dragged me down to a windowless interrogation room, but in New Orleans he just said, "Eh, you got anything else with your name on it?" So I started pulling out credit cards and insurance cards and my Target debit card and some TSA lady off to the side shouts, "Girl, don't you got a Costco card?!"
I looked at the TSA dude. "That COUNTS?"
He said, "Amazingly enough, yes it does."
He called his superior over who went through my little stack of cards, examined my Costco picture, inquired as to why I cut my hair, and waved me through security. I didn't even get a pat down. I got to spend my last hour in New Orleans chatting leisurely with the dry and pithy @megglesP who has many a mortuary science tale with which to totally gross you out. (THANKS MEGAN!)
All of that just to tell you: I made my flight and got to see Phillip at the Atlanta airport. He took an early flight so we could have an hour or so to hang out. It was... bizarre. He met me at my gate, asked me what I wanted for lunch, knew exactly where he was going, which, I suppose, only makes sense as the Atlanta airport IS his home away from home. I spilled all my Blathering details over a less-than-delicious TGIFriday's salad, he walked me to my gate, and I flew home to kids and bedtimes and diapers and double checking the doors are locked before I go to bed.
He comes home late tomorrow night. We have Jack's parent teacher conference early Friday morning and then he'll go to work. We have Saturday together - a friend just texted to see if we want to have dinner this weekend and usually I'm all YES, PEOPLE INVITED US TO DO SOMETHING, WE ARE ALL OVER THAT, YAY PEOPLE LIKE US, but Saturday is the only day we have. He leaves again on Sunday, comes home on Tuesday. Wednesday, praise God in heaven, is his last day of work. There might be a lot of celebratory drinking that night. And please, please do not ask me why he is traveling two out of his last three days of work. We've been over this multiple times and I still don't understand it.
Things are going to be different.
I'm not sure how. And probably not right away. It's the holidays, things are crazy, and I'm going on ANOTHER TRIP after Christmas, a LONG ONE. I still haven't let myself think about that one. Childcare juggling, more hotel rooms, not sleeping, strange city, overwhelming event, utter lack of beignets EEK.
But after that? January-ish? Things are going to be different. I MEAN IT.