Air travel is always something of an adventure to me. For starters I love the idea of flying – of sitting in a chair in the sky and looking down and imagining little people in their little lives in little towns far below. One time I flew from Seattle to JFK between a fat guy who held his stomach and snored all night and some other guy who clutched a cardboard box so tightly to his chest. I didn’t move for seven hours – I should rephrase that, I couldn’t move for seven hours.
Last night I couldn’t sleep. I think I fell asleep at 2:00 and had to get up at 5:00. I got to the airport in a rush with only twenty minutes to clear security and board my plane. I felt I had already taken off what I felt to be an appropriate amount of clothes to satisfy the appetite of the TSA scanner, which meant putting my wallet back into my bag and leaving my license in my hand. I felt rushed through the line and so I dropped my laptop bag in one tote and then placed the laptop on top, and put the rest of my belongings in another. An agent told me that I had to move the laptop to its own bin and he slid it over – and I went through the scanner. Once I raced around the terminal I found my gate but realized when I tried to put my license back into my wallet that I hadn’t the faintest idea where it was – in fact, I couldn’t properly remember anything that happened because I was A) without coffee, B) exhausted, and C) confused. I checked back at the scanner, talked to the agents, but I couldn’t find it. No dice. I left for Atlanta without it.
I felt like my identity was just missing If someone asked: “who are you?” I really had no official way to prove I was who I am other than being who I said I was, which makes that whole conversation sound like nonsense writing for Alice and Wonderland. Somehow it felt like everyone knew it too. Like, they just knew…
I had a 3 hour layover, which was good because they moved my flight all over the planet. I think I ended up flying Korean Airlines for the 33 minute ride home. My bags started pulling on my shoulder and I could feel it start to dislocate, just a bit, from an old injury from a long time ago. I stopped and dropped my bags on a seat next too an old man with great big eyes that stared at me as though I should just landed a spaceship on his home planet. I smiled, adjusted my bags and popped my shoulder, ‘Good day‘ and I walked away.
When I was taxing out of Atlanta I started to wonder if God was thinking of stuff like this when He said: ‘It’s not good for man to be alone”, because left to his own devices he will wander around the airport looking for his license like an idiot. See, I found it later, when I got home and was about to order a replacement on line. Turns out it was in my shoe… Apparently it fell into my shoe when the laptop slid from one tote to the other and then found its way deep into a far corner. I was literally walking on it the entire day. Like, really? How does that even happen?
What’s the point? There isn’t one – but if you are missing something, I guess check your shoes?