Some people have real problems. That’s a fact. I know it.
But today is not my day. I dropped my coffee twice. My sister and her husband had to cancel our dinner plans next week and I was so stoked to see them. I had a terrible row with Claus last night (which I had to wake up to today, so it counts.) Generally, I am disappointed with myself and some of my life choices, which is far too complex to go into here, but trust me: I’m a big dummy.
And then there was the little matter of getting to the ticketing counter here at Midway and discovering I left my ID at home. Oh, no! Oh, yes! I went to dinner last night and carried a small purse that only has room for the essentials: ID, debit card, some cash, and my best red lipstick, of course. Well, I forgot to put my ID back in my regular wallet. Not good. When I realized this, I burst into tears at the curbside check-in. I actually put my head down on the counter and wailed.
“Hey, hey,” the curbside check-in guy said. “Calm down, calm down. You can fly without it.” My head snapped up. “Really?” I said. Really, he said. Indeed, with a bunch of other things (credit cards, insurance card, student ID) and a serious pat-down, I was allowed in. Oh, but that’s not the end of it: I remembered that I have to rent a car when I land in Florida tonight. It’s crazy, but a car rental company wants you to possess a driver’s license. Who ever heard of such a thing!
I went to the Southwest ticket counter, burst into tears. I actually put my head down on their counter and wailed a second time. Then, a ray of dirty, gray light: there was a 6:15pm flight to Orlando posted. If I could get on that flight, I could take the train back into the city, get proof of ownership of myself, get back on the train, and try it again. If there ever was a more despondent woman on the Orange Line el, I’ve never seen her.
I’ll be in Florida for six days. I’m always grateful to be able to visit BabyLock dealers and quilt guilds to talk about this thing I love so much. But six days is long. All the quilt teachers out there will say, “Preach, sister!” when I say that while it is lame to forget your ID at home, when you teach on the road (especially for six days) there are so many, many, many things to remember — and you can’t really mess up because you have no backup. All of us have a story or two about sheer panic on realizing X, Y, or Z teaching tool is sitting on the dining room table, 2,000 miles away. Sometimes you’re the seam ripper; sometimes you’re the seam.
There’s a Southwest gate agent who has been whistling a jaunty tune while I wrote this. At least that’s nice.