A travel story worth reading

Let me tell you a story. Rarely are my days interesting enough to write about, today wasn’t one of those days.

So today was one of the most stressful and worrisome days of my life. It started like any normal day when someone is on a business trip, so no real news. Got to the seminar that I was at, and found out that thankfully one of my fellow University of Phoenix employees had scheduled for a cab to pick us up afterwards, this was nice because it saved me having to call one. 2:30 came around, and we left for the Detroit area airport. They dropped my coworker off first. She was flying a different airline than me, so that made sense. No big deal. I told her I could pay for the can since we expensed it all anyways. We pulled up to my terminal, and I paid with my credit card (I only use a credit card when gone on business).

Paid. tipped. Done. Slipped my wallet back into the pocket of my jacket because I would need my card to get my boarding pass once inside the airport. Aren’t those express check in terminals nice?

So I have my bag, and I walk into the airport and slip my hand into my jacket pocket to retrieve my wallet, and a moment of horror strikes me. In fact, to call it a moment of horror is an understatement. Quickly my hands fidgeted to every pocket on my body. Jacket, pants, shoulder bag… Where on earth was my wallet? Not on me, that was for sure. Inside my wallet was of course everything I would need to get on a plane. Everything to prove that I wasn’t a terrorist. Inside was also all of the receipts that I would need to expense this trip.

So I looked. I dug through my bag. I was frazzled when getting out of the cab so I could have easily slipped it into my bag without even thinking about it. I had a plane to catch. Being at an airport always takes me out of my comfort zone, now I am at an airport without any money or identification. Never in my life have I felt more helpless. I often overdramatize situations, but this was seriously a terrible feeling. I had no clue what to do. 

I called the number on my receipt, and it went straight to voicemail (of course). I called my wife in a state of complete panic. She Googled the taxi company, but we got some strange numbers, none of which worked. I didn’t know what to do.

After wandering aimlessly around the airport for a few minutes trying to figure something out, I walked up to a TSA security officer. He said that if I could get my boarding pass that I could get through security if I was willing to be asked a series of questions.

So I went to the Delta Airlines desk to get my boarding pass. Honestly, that was pretty easy. Perhaps too easy, but I am not complaining. Boarding pass in hand, I went up to a different security guard, one of the folks that would actually let me through security. He gave me a glance and I honestly thought there was no way. He pulled me aside, grabbed a form, and started asking questions. Name, address, phone number… We don’t have a home phone (at least not plugged in). The questions continued. Does anyone else live with you? I answered that my wife lives with me. He then asked what her last name was, and I answered Marquart. Evidently the TSA computer doesn’t have the most updated name information, because that was the wrong answer and I was one step closer to be a terrorist. He asked if she had another name, and I said Welscher. Then he asked her phone number… Now I don’t know about you, but I know about 4 phone numbers by heart anymore thanks to the technological convenience of a cell phone. I blanked. I was stressed, scared, and worried. I totally and completely blanked. I reached for my cell phone to look it up, and he swatted at my hand. He didn’t hit me, but he made it clear I couldn’t look in my phone for it (he was on the phone with another agent trying to clear me, so he didn’t say anything). I tried to picture the post-it note with Katie’s cell number that is pinned inside my cubicle… 235… something. Then it came to me! Magic. All then I had to do was answer what model and year of car I drove, he initialed my pass, and through security I went.

Then my flight was overbooked. No way in hell I wasn’t getting on that plane. They could have offered 4 roundtrip tickets, I was getting on that plane.

So I am on the plane. Life is good. I am hungry and thirsty (didn’t have any money to buy dinner), but I am on a plane.

Then the plane stopped and the captain came on the loudspeaker, “we have a sensor on the plane that isn’t working, we are going to be here awhile.” An hour later, we pulled back into the terminal. 45 minutes later our plane took off.

So here I am, on a bus home from O’Hare Airport. Today was a terrible day, yet an educational day. I learned that traveling without an ID is hard. I learned to be safer and more organized when traveling. But I learned one very important lesson…

I have the best wife in the world. She is an angel. She knew my panic, yet she remained calm. Her focus almost made me mad. Here I was fearing being stranded in Detroit, and all she cared about what problem solving.  When we got off the phone, she made the calls, and she found my wallet. I don’t know how. Of course, it was in the cab. I am an idiot. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such a brilliant and loving wife, but I am blessed to have her. My wallet is supposed to be here by 10:30 tomorrow morning, via FedEx (think the $35 cash will be in it?). Right now, I just want to get home, get some food, pet my kitten, and crash (not like an airplane crash). Let’s hope this bus doesn’t breakdown.