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I’m in Las Vegas for Black Hat but I’m still obsessing over my photo ID. Having an ID let me play my favorite game of chicken…how close can I cut a trip to the airport and make the flight.
I got to Oakland International at 3:05 p.m. to make a 4:10 flight. The Southwest security line snaked around in front of three open checkpoints. It was in this line (which only took about 20 minutes to get through) that I was very glad I had my 14 year-old-picture-with-the-wrong-address California driver license. I’ll just say that I don’t think the Southwest representative my travel agent talked with a couple of days ago—who said that a temporary (no picture, just a piece of paper) license and a credit card with my name on it—had spoken with the people working the security line. I’m pretty confident that I would have been held up while “my supervisor” was consulted about my lack of a picture ID. My game of chicken would have been over, leaving me at the Southwest service desk trying to book another flight to Las Vegas. Dinner at the Monte Carlo would have been tricky, too. My co-workers were sure that I’d be able to check into the hotel without a photo ID. “They just want your money,” was the universal assessment. And that is probably true. However, eating at the Sabarro in the Monte Carlo food court would have been a different story. After ordering my lasagna and screw cap bottle of merlot (when I’m alone at the Monte Carlo I will admit that I prefer the food court to either room service or sitting with a book in one of the upscale restaurants) the clerk swiftly asked to see my ID when I offered my credit card. I am so glad I had my 14 year-old-picture-with-the-wrong-address California driver license. In a few minutes I’m going to be at Ceasars Palace registering for Black Hat. I bet my 14 year-old-picture-with-the-wrong-address California driver license is going to help me get my press pass.