melev

Who needs it? Driver’s Licenses are SO last century.

How often do you really pull out a driver’s license? Sure, if you speed an officer may request it. Or when you get carded when purchasing liquor at the supermarket or when getting drinks with friends. For me, that’s just occasional use. So whenever I’m asked for it, I open my wallet and search for it. My debit card and Blockbuster card get far more use - trust me.

When I fly out to speak to other clubs, that’s when it is requested by a TSA agent at the security checkpoint in the airport terminal. As I page through the cards in my wallet, a small feeling of trepidation wells up within me, usually quickly pushed aside as it finally surfaces at my fingertips. Thoughts raced through my brain wondering when I’d used it last, and why it isn’t immediately discoverable. Yesterday was the same routine as I was departing from DFW to Atlanta, Ga. Happily, I was able to present it to the agent along with my boarding pass, who carefully scrutinized it for any evidence of tampering or forgery. Moments later, my carry-ons were x-rayed and I was on my way.

Fast-forward 24 hours later. As I approach the TSA checkpoint, it’s nowhere to be found. I check all of my pockets, my backpack, and wallet. I had it yesterday, but not today. Explaining to the agent that I don’t have it, I’m quickly pulled aside for a thorough interview. With a fistful of credit cards bearing my name, I explain the situation. They need a photo ID. I’m asked for my passport. “To fly to Atlanta?!” My bank doesn’t put my picture on my banking card. My health insurance card, well-worn but bearing my name doesn’t do. Nor does my auto insurance card, which has my full address as well. They never ask for the actual driver’s license number, which I know by heart. My business cards won’t help. Nothing I have on me suffices. Finally, I suggest they access my Facebook profile which has my face on display. This suggestion was met with a few smiles, but no dice.

Instead, I have to fill out a simple form that asked for my full name, address, and signature stating that above is true. Then the agent calls someone, who asks for a few factoids, like what major cross-street is near my address, who resides there with me, and their date of birth. Oh, and my date of birth. With that, I’m allowed to go to the next process, a full pat-down followed up with a careful inspection of my possessions. My shoes and my camera bag were swiped with a small cloth for analysis, as was my laptop. Knowing that some items we use in the hobby can cause a little controversy with security agents in the past, I wondered if my visit to the Georgia Aquarium would result in further delays, but fortunately everything measured at normal levels.

So where is my elusive driver’s license? Could it be in the lost and found at the American Airlines terminal in DFW airport? At the Starbucks in the Atlanta airport? At the Georgia Aquarium gift shop? Did I drop it at the meeting with the Atlanta Reef Club last night which I used a few credit cards to level the projector so my presentation wasn’t tilted on the screen? In my hotel room that I hastily exited this morning when my ride arrived early? I don’t know. Years ago, if someone found a lost driver’s license, they would simply drop it in a nearby mailbox and the postmaster would get it back to its owner. Regrettably, this no longer is the case as I’ve seen them pinned to bulletin boards behind cash registers or under the glass serving countertop, sadly never to reunite with their rightful owner.

As I write this during my flight home, you can be sure I’ll be making a few calls in hopes of recovering my ID as that option is far more appealing than to stand in line at the DMV to get its replacement. I’m just glad I have plenty of liquor at home to drown my sorrows, not having to prove I’m over 21 nor unworthy to fly our friendly skies.

I only have one question: How much longer until retinal scans are employed? Sign me up!



Addendum: Once I landed, I took the Skylink rail to Terminal C to visit Lost & Found in person. I'd called them from Atlanta's waiting area at the gate, and left them a voicemail. I asked the pretty woman if she was going to save me from the DMV line, and lo - she had my driver's license at the ready. Cue up the Snoopy music because it's time for the happy dance!