Flying on a wing, a prayer, no photo ID

Driver’s license out. Check. Shoes off. Check. Jacket off. Check. Liquids in no more than 3-ounce containers, in a 1-quart clear baggie, out on display. Check, check, check.

I was all ready to be cleared by Transportation Security Administration agents and fly out of Little Rock Airport, er, the Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport (give me — who is still saying Alltel Arena and not Verizon Arena nearly three years later — another decade to get that right) to BWI. (I know that one still stands for Baltimore/Washington International. Well, sort of. It’s known as the Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport, as of 2005.)

So maybe I failed the airport names test. But I passed airport security screening. Shoes on. Check. Jacket on. Check. Liquids back in bag. Check. I was just about set for a blissful flight experience — or the best one a mediocre B20 seating assignment on a full Southwest plane can bring. I bought a bagel and slid my debit card back into the slot behind my wallet’s empty driver’s license window.

Wait, empty? What happened to my license?

I didn’t have it. The bagel counter didn’t have it. TSA didn’t have it. And I didn’t have time to search for it before boarding.

Surely it would turn up in my purse or jacket pocket later. It didn’t.

Surely it would turn up at the Little Rock, er, Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport during the next few days. I called. It didn’t.

I began fretting. I turned to tsa. gov for direction. Surely they must understand passengers occasionally arrive at the airport without an ID.

It said: “We understand passengers occasionally arrive at the airport without an ID ...” Whew!

It continued, “Not having an ID does not necessarily mean a passenger won’t be allowed to fly. If passengers are willing to provide additional information, we have other means of substantiating someone's identity ....” I felt better already.

Until I read the list of other acceptable IDs, none of which I had with me.

U.S. passport. U.S. passport card. Department of Homeland Security “Trusted Traveler” cards (Global Entry, NEXUS, SENTRI, FAST). An airline or airport-issued ID (if issued under a TSA-approved security plan). A U.S. Military ID (active duty or retired military and their dependents, and Department of De-

fense civilian employees). No, no, no, no and no, Sir.

A foreign government-issued passport. Canadian provincial driver’s license or Indian and Northern Affairs Canada card. Transportation Worker Identification Credential. Native American Tribal Photo ID. Permanent Resident Card. And a Border Crossing Card. No, no, no, no and no lo tengo.

I was out of a license and out of luck.

A call to TSA’s information center provided little comfort. The representative said I might be able to get through security with additional forms of identification, like credit cards, and additional screening. Might? I might have been ill.

But one final call to the airport offered great relief. Someone, perhaps Bill or Hillary, did find — and finally logged — my license! It was at TSA waiting for me to pick up! If I was ever allowed to fly home again.

At BWI, I prepared to present my other identification forms (pick one: insurance card, voter registration, Sephora Very Important Beauty Insider membership) and my most pitiable expression. I told the TSA agent my tale of woe and handed her three cards. She studied me and my information before seeking a second opinion. Her supervisor gave me a death stare and then a surprise. “Let her through.” Home again. Check. Driver’s license back in possession. Check.

Lesson in responsibility learned. Check.

Hey, where’s my checkbook?