At least, it is to me.
Last week my Grandfather flew here from California to visit for a few days. Yesterday, he flew back, and I rode along with my Mom and he to the airport in Raleigh, NC.
I was babysitting for my brother's children, Emilie and Owen - the kids in the photo above, and they went, too.
My Grandfather is legally blind.... meaning he has limited vision, but can still walk around and function pretty normally. However, because of the nature of airports, and the hustle and bustle of them, he has to be given special attention when flying.
This includes having a courtesy wheel chair once he has checked his luggage. As we were in line getting his bags checked, Mom and I decided I would wait in the lower level of the terminal with Owen (2) and Emilie (4) while she got a "passenger needing assistance pass" to go with Grandpa to the gate and hand him off to the person in charge of seeing that he got to his seat, etc.
But, the nice lady checking him in offered to make an exception and give me and the kids a pass also, so we could all accompany him to the gate and say goodbye.
Even though I had left my purse in the car, and I didn't have any photo ID on me, she printed me a pass - although, she butchered my name and it looked all foreign on the pass.
Next she asked me for Owen's name - Owen, who was clinging to me in nervousness. (The kids had never been to the airport.) "His name is Blanchard, too?" She asked. "No, it's Pennell," I said. "Date of birth?" she asked. Mom rattled it off. Next was Emilie's name. Then, "Date of birth?" Mom was talking to Grandpa.
I couldn't remember..... so I started trying to think of it. "Uuuuh...... uuuuh.... December......." Then Mom chimed in with "December 14 ..... and she's four, so that's...... 2007....?" That's when I noticed the woman looking at me with this look of disbelief and disgust. I realized in that second that she thought I was the kid's mother - and didn't know their birth dates.
"The kid's aren't mine! They're my brother's children! They're not mine!" I told her.
"Oh, okay - I was about to say...... whoa....."
Heh. Heh, heh.
So now, we go to the TSA security people, and do the whole shoe removal (like I am seriously going to put explosives in a 2-year old's shoe? Really?) and pocket emptying thing. The ticket guy looks at our passes. He asks to see my photo ID. That's when I hear my Mom say to him ....
"Oh, she doesn't have one."
Silence. The guy is looking at me, and looking at my name misspelled on the pass, looking all foreign.....
Then it registers to me what mom has just said.
"I have and ID.... I left it in my car..... I DO have an ID..... the woman at the ticket counter gave me the pass anyway.....I don't have to go up; I can stay here, it's not a big deal, I'll just wait down here......"
No, they're not my kids; they're my niece and nephew..... (they do look like me; after all I am their Aunt).
Grandpa has picked up on the confusion, now. And in an irritated tone announces, "This is my granddaughter. And these are my great grandchildren. And the woman said they could go up with me. She's my granddaughter......"
Finally, we get through. All the other passengers are watching and laughing, I am sure..... I had a huge chuckle myself over it.