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Our plane is scheduled to take off momentarily. My cousin and I stand at the airline counter and present picture proof of who we are. I have a photo on my license. Phyllis has a passport. The airline attendant looks at Phyllis’ passport, then at Phyllis, then back at the passport.
“This picture doesn’t look like you,” she says.
Wise guy that I am I say, “Oh, pulleeease, nobody looks like their passport picture, and thank goodness.”
“No,” she persists, “this picture doesn’t look like you.”
With that she holds up the passport so we can see. By George, she’s right. The picture looks nothing like Phyllis because she has brought her husband’s passport by mistake.
Our hilarity stops abruptly when the attendant informs us that Phyllis can not enter the plane without proper photo identification. My swearing that the woman with me really is Phyllis doesn’t alter her decision, nor does it bring even a hint of a smile to her face.
Beads of sweat form on Phyllis’ forehead as she forages through her purse for identification. Finally she comes up with her Costco photo ID card. The attendant scrutinizes the picture for 20 seconds then waves us on, which we can’t understand because her husband’s passport photo looks more like Phyllis than her Costco photo.
Now we’re on the plane. Because these were last minute reservations we’re stuck in the last row, next to the rest rooms. The seats are tight and close. It’s very hot and I don’t feel well. I tell Phyllis that I need to remove my bra or I’m going to be sick, and she has to cover me. I’m sitting next to the window; she’s on the aisle. Nobody is around.
I work my magic in the most discrete way possible. Suddenly Phyllis, who has been standing in the aisle, falls over her seat and laughs so hard and for long she’s unable to talk. Everyone is looking now, everyone. I still don’t know what’s so funny. Finally she gathers her wits and explains that a man has been watching everything from his position in the out-cove between the restrooms.
I want to fall through a hole in the plane, but suddenly I rethink everything and decide I’m not embarrassed anymore. I have done this man a service. Because of me he will have a great story to relay to his buddies. I just can’t figure out how to leave the plane without being seen.
I purchase an Easy Pass ticket Online. When I arrive at the airport I bring my ticket to an Easy Pass check-in machine and answer the prompted questions. One question stumps me so I ask a nearby desk attendant for assistance. She requests identification so I reach under the top of my scoop neck blouse and whip out my licence, where I’d filed it and my credit card for easy access at the airport. The attendant finds this humorous, laughs loudly, and informs all surrounding attendants of my efficient filing system. I enjoy a laugh with them and leave.
Ten minutes later I’m in the Ladies Room when I hear the following on the loud speaker, “Will Laverne Bardy please return to the check-in counter for your credit card, on which you can expect to find several new charges for the Home Shopping Network?”
Laughing all the way, I pick up my card from the same woman who assisted me a short while before.
Now, it’s time to enter the plane. A male voice announces that passengers with an F or a B code on their tickets will be subject to security checks. I have neither an F or a B, but that same attendant who checked me in is now standing at the gate with a security guard who is clutching a wand and pointing it at me.
“Me?” I question. “Why me? I don’t have an F or a B on my ticket.”
“Because we like you,” he smiles.
The attendant, with a huge grin on her face, instructs the guard to pay special attention to my chest because knowing my penchant for storing things there, I could have a concealed weapon.
By now I’m laughing hysterically, the attendant is howling and the guard, who is frisking me with his wand, is loving every moment of his assignment.
On my return trip, I loose my license in the airport. An armed guard finds it but refuses to return it to me unless I give him my phone number. What could I do? He had a gun.