I’ve decided that if I ever write my autobiography, I think “Comedy of Errors” would be a great title. Today is an excellent case in point. Almost since I got up this morning, I’ve been running like the proverbial headless chicken.
The day started out innocently enough. I got up at 6:30 and planned to head to PHL airport around 7:30 for a 9:54 flight to Atlanta. Normally, the trip would only take me about an hour, but due to rush hour traffic, it took closer to an hour and a half. Even so, I got to the check-in counter for Delta in plenty of time. The drama began when the counter agent asked to see my ID and I was horrified to discover I didn’t have it.
I went through my wallet about a dozen times. I tore my bag apart. I checked every pocket. Every nook. Every cranny. Every crevice. Nothing. Not my driver’s license, passport, or even utility bill with my name on it. Nothing to prove that I was me. I tried to remember when I’d had my license last, but couldn’t. The thought then occurred to me that I might not have used it since I traveled last. If that was the case, I suspected it might be in my travel purse that I use on vacations, or in my backpack – and, as irony would have it, here I was traveling and neither of these were with me. Go figure.
Fighting back tears of frustration and angst, I called my parents to let them know that I was going to be forced to miss my flight. Thankfully (and unlike the last time I flew – or rather DIDN’T fly – Delta), they were able to book me on a 4:40 flight instead, giving me enough time to drive home, get my license, and come back.
So I caught the courtesy shuttle back to my car in the Economy Lot, paid the flat $9 rate for 24-hours (even though I had barely been there an hour), and drove the 36 miles home. I first checked my backpack and, while my roommate was looking through my otehr bag, I began looking for my travel purse when I suddenly remembered that - and here comes that damn irony again - it was in the trunk of my car. I went back out to my car and got the purse. My driver’s license was in the front pocket.
Yes, that’s right. My license was with me. In the purse. In the trunk. The whole time. The WHOLE time.
And so I got back in the car and drove the 36 miles back to the airport to try and get on an earlier flight than 4:40 since I had time, but unfortunately the earlier flight was now sold out.
Now I’m killing time sitting in the Delta Crown Club Lounge (which, while better than sitting in the terminal, is not as comfortable as the Continental President’s Club Lounge). Honestly, I’m just thankful they let me in since, in keeping with the theme of the day, I also couldn’t find my President’s Club membership card either.
This is not a unique story to my life. I have made such faux pas in the past that some might say this pales in comparison, but still… All-in-all, I think the cost of my own mistakes in this case is in the neighborhood of $75-100 when you consider parking, gas, ticket change fee, etc.
I know that I will look back on this and laugh. I know it. But right now I just want to be in that place where I’m looking back and laughing because right at this moment, can’t really say I’m feelin’ it.