Isabella, in her Delta uniform, had, after hearing my tale, agreed to walk back through security and see if my Oregon Driver’s License was still on the plane I took from Portland. I saw her now, blank-faced, and walking towards me. I had waited for her for an estimated 30 minutes to perform the check. I had little hope that my ID would be found and turned in before the 757 would fly to its next destination.
Isabella works for Baggage Services and is in a quiet office filled with misplaced items and bags. There are no chairs, and I noticed that the folks who work there are quiet, with faces set to give no false hope. But I did see them look delighted, just a crack in their passive masks, when they helped someone, like a laptop being recovered.
Isabella, looking suspiciously happy, told me that the plane had left before she could search it, and that the agents were all busy with the next flight, and then reached into her pocket. “You are the luckiest person here today,” I was told as she handed me my Driver’s License. It had been found, but the agent was too busy to send it, and Isabella found it in a drawer with a Post-It on it with the flight and seat number. I had put in an online report the moment I discovered the near-disaster. I realized that having done the proper procedures, adding my name, flight, and seat number had made this all easier for Isabella. Hugs happened. Deborah came, as I thought I would be stranded, and she, too, hugged Isabella. It was an unexpected miracle!
It was wonderful, even with the stressed-out mess, to see Deborah, and we found a sandwich for me and a Coke Zero to share. Deborah and I walked together after a chat about options, and I returned to the Budget Rent-a-car shuttle. It was so good to see Deborah!
But, there was troubled waters ahead. The line was long and moved slowly. I spent three hours in that line. I read a book, drank my Coke Zero, and chatted wtih my fellow car-line prisoners. Budget is optimistic about how quickly it can turn around a returned rental, and I was told by their staff that there were not enough people to clean and reprocess the hoard of cars returned over the weekend. The Budget/Avis people handed out water and even frozen treats, but the group of customers was glum. Nobody expected this after surviving flights and various security checks. Deborah called, and we talked. She was upset that she had left me, and this had now happened. I reminded her that, while it would be 1ish before I got a car (at the rate I was going), I was still on West Coast time and could handle the drive. That made her feel better.
After three hours, around midnight, I got to an agent. She was younger and pregnant, but seemed to know how to handle the mess, unflappable. I stood for another thirty minutes, reading a book while in front of the counter. My Chevy was ready after midnight, and I was handed a piece of paper. I had filled in all the pre-check info in the line (hours ago, as there was little to do). I found the car in the dark, J25, adjusted the seat (and helped someone else with their car’s seat), made ApplyPlay work, adjusted my mirrors, and headed out. I got to the last check, handed them my ID and my piece of paper, and was off. I put the ID back in my wallet.
I was awake, and the drive was the same one I remember Deborah taking. I managed not to head to Ann Arbor, a first for me, and discovered the Chevy loved the high seventies on Michigan roads. I arrived at my hotel before 2, was let in, checked in, and found my room. I then arranged the minimum number of things to charge, put on my PJs from my suitcase, and slept after 2.
(While this is not a TSA display, it could be)
Before this, I made it through security at PDX without issue, then forgot to put my ID back in my wallet. I sat at Grasso, my favorite place for breakfast and to write the blog, and had their ricotta pancakes and coffee. I did not know that, besides some trail mix I bought in the concourse, it would be all I had to eat until after my ID was returned to me in Detroit.
The flight, on a 757, one of the least comfortable aircraft I travel in, with my bag not even fitting under the seat, and my window seat having me bend with the plane’s hull, I watched the Michael Jackson BioPic and then a series on the economics of various businesses made during the pandemic, but still interesting. Strange to see the masking and social distancing again. I missed the food cart to get a sandwich.
I arrived and thought, “home,” as I walked through the familiar sights of DTW (the same reaction I have to PDX). I was stuck on the plane for an extra 10 minutes because they couldn’t get the gate organized, then waited for my luggage, grabbed it, got on the shuttle to the car rental agency, and discovered I had no ID.
It was a stressed-out mess at that time. I had to find the shuttle back (after eyeing the huge line to get a car), then go to ticketing, and finally to Isabella at Baggage Services. Deborah had insisted I connect with Delta. I was totally stressed and felt like a fool.
Before all of this, Joan S picked me up at 7:30 and dropped me off at Beaverton Transit Center, and I took an hour on the MAX Red Line to reach the airport. I did scan, but I could not find a record of it. I will have to be more careful next time. I arrived with no issues, checked in without forgetting my iPhone, and then headed to security.
And that takes me full circle.
I will add that there was an unhappy Russian guy with me in line for three hours at the car rental. He had decided to drive to Knoxville instead of flying (it was only about an hour away by air), but had not planned on a three-plus-hour wait for a car. He had the folks at Budget laughing as he offered to take anything, “steaming radiators, leaking transmission fluid, engine check light? No problem.” I shook his hand as I left and wished him well, a shared adventure.
Thanks for reading!
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 