My kid and her fiancé are to be married in October. Now, I’m NO expert in marriage since mine failed, but these two seem to be madly in love with each other. They are different, but alike in a number of ways. While I’m delighted for them, I’ve one major concern. Of course, I can rectify that concern while I’m alive, but I need a permanent solution.
Their problem? Driver’s licenses, AKA ID’s. Cases in point:
- My kid and I went to San Diego several years ago. She drove; I road shotgun because she thinks she’s the boss. We stopped at the outlets on our way to the beach and she went to pay for another new handbag to add to her collection. No wallet, no credit cards, no money, AND no id! She flipped, “How am I even going to buy a beer at the beach?”
“You’re 30. I don’t think that will be a problem. Be grateful you didn’t get a speeding ticket.” Pout, pout, pout all weekend. My uber-educated left her wallet at home, but her mother was there to pay the bill.
2. On Friday, my soon-to-be, son-in-law flew to Phoenix to spend a few days with me. (Admittedly, I was humbled. Who wants to spend time with his mother-in-law? Especially one as crazy as me?) “Sue, I almost missed my flight,” he drawled–Southern speak.
“Why, CB? Late getting to the airport?”
“No, ma’am.” (Cute Southern boy talk.) “I reached in my wallet to show my ID to the ticket agent, and it wasn’t there! I left my luggage did another one-hour, round trip to retrieve my passport. Can you believe it, Sue? I made the plane just before they closed the doors.”
“So, did you find your driver’s license?”
“Sue, I’m a very anal and responsible person, but no, I did not. I’ve no idea where it is.”
Responsible? Hardly my choice of adjective. Inwardly, I was rolling with laughter, Two people who are about to be married who may or may not be able to validate their existence on the marriage license application. Too bad they are not dogs I could have them micro-chipped. Perhaps tattoos emblazoned: DO NOT Leave Home Without ID!
Excuse me, I must go. I can’t find my glasses. No, they’re not on top of my head. I just had them. Oops they’re looped into my shirt front, but where’s my cell phone? Ever wonder why apples don’t far from the tree?