Dear Transportation Security Agency,

Do you have any idea the fear I had boarding a JetBlue flight from NYC’s JFK airport to Burbank, land of Jay Leno, California???

You see, as you know (because I called you 6 times)I lost my California Driver’s License somewhere around Madison Square Garden and the Empire State Building. I had no intention of losing my only photo ID. It was not some sort of ploy to make your life harder. It was not some sort of trick to keep you on the phone with me, a frantic mother of two, while you should be out tracking terrorists and hijacking people’s toothpaste and water bottles and, oh yeah-as I learned, jelly sandwiches. We all know how terribly explosive those Smucker’s people are. Smucker’s just sounds evil, I agree.

Anyway, i admit I was a bit of a pain in your ass. You see, I wanted to make sure I could, say, get home from New York. I had gotten to New York so, silly me, I wanted to get home from that great city.

Your nice agents assured me it was possible to return home, as planned. All I needed was two non-photo forms of ID. That’s it. They didn’t have to be originals. They could just be faxed to the hotel. But, I was told by your really well informed agents, there must be TWO pieces of faxed paper, and they both must contain the copies of two government issued documents. I was told this could be my social security card, my birth certificate, my marriage license, my divorce decree (not that I have one), or something like that. This, I was told, was the ONLY way I was getting on that plane home. The ONLY way I would ever see my wonderful husband and darling children again.

It’s not like I could rent a car without a driver’s license. Its not like I could use my credit card for a train ticket without a photo ID. No, I needed those two forms of ID, and my adoring Kaiser went through closet after closet, box after box and came away victorious.With two children tugging at his pants, he faxed the documents to the hotel. I waiting in a long line at the front desk and, eventually, walked away with the holy grail of paper.

I held the envelope tightly in my hand while I went up 10 floors to my room. I tucked the envelope away in a safe spot, awaiting the time and date of my return flight. I called your agents again and again…and maybe again. I needed to be sure these documents, tucked between my panties and my pj’s…would be my ticket home.

Yes, the agents told me…over and over. The documents would be fine, but they would be scrutinized. I would go through a more formal search, and I would be allowed to board the flight if my documents were in order.

Finally, the time came. With documents in hand I approached security…shaking. The Kaiser was on standby, waiting to hear if I made it through. Friends were on standby, waiting to come get me if they needed to, and my mother was on standby, convinced this was all a ploy to stay on vacation longer.

Security looked at my boarding pass, asked for my ID. I explained the situation and handed them my envelope of precious documents.

They didn’t even look at them.

Not a glance. Not a…hmmm…let me see what we have here.

Nothing.

I kept trying to hand security types my papers…someone needed to see these. SOMEONE needed to LOOK at my PROOF that I was NOT a terrorist.

Hello…ANYONE WANT TO SEE THESE?????

NO takers.

Not one.

Just thought you should know.

Way to keep us safe, asshats,

Queen of Spain