With Lulu strapped to my back and a venti coffee from Starbucks, I headed over to the DMV office (reason #1 to drink). I wanted to see if it was possible to get Blake a state ID. I'm certainly not going to drag him there unless I know it can be done!! It's bad enough for me to go there! I waited in line, for what seemed like an eternity, only to be told absolutely nothing can be done without a social security card. WTF. Completely broken, he then sends me over to his supervisor. At this point I'm doing everything in my power to keep from crying. Do you know that feeling when you're just so completely spent you can't even speak with exploding into tears? Maybe only girls know what I'm talking about. Anyway, this was me. The supervisor came over and I couldn't get any words out. Next thing you know, I'm balling. I tried SO HARD to keep it together. The supervisor was great as she looked at me and said "honey, I feel the same way." I needed that. I couldn't help but laugh which gave me a brief window to pull myself together. It worked. Pheww, but as nice as she was, she couldn't help me either.
Next stop, police station (lulu still strapped to my back). I know what you're thinking, why on earth is she going to a police station?! Here me out. I'm desperate here. I'm thinking that I can possibly pay a police escort to go with us to the airport. OK, I realize that sounds moronic, but I've clearly lost my mind so I have to try anything. Officer Martinez came out to speak with me. He was incredibly sympathetic and empathetic to my story as his girlfriend's brother is a quadraplegic and has been faced with countless hurdles and is somewhat "lost in the system" as well. Such an incredibly nice guy, but unfortunately he only made me feel worse as he explained that the "police" have absolutely no authority at the airports. To emphasize this point, he decides to tell me a little story about his mother (btw, he clearly has no idea how much of an emotional train wreck I am or he would not have told me this story). Here it goes... His mother is blind, and before she passed, she needed to take a flight to see his sister. Desperate not to leave his mom at the gate blind and alone, he shows his police badge and all of his ID, hoping they will allow him to sit with her. They didn't. His police badge meant nothing. His mom was forced to sit at the gate blind and alone for over and hour. Really?! I just stood there speechless trying to process our conversation. Keep it together. Keep it together.
He suggested I call TSA. He agreed they must have an office here in the city. I figure I could stop by their office, crying, and see if that gets me anywhere. Speaking of crying, I wonder how good Blake is at crying on que. We might have to practice. This could be a good tactic at the airport.
I get back to my friend's apartment and dial TSA. I explain my entire story to "Tracy". Tracy is great, and proceeds to tell me that the documentation I have for Blake will be enough?!?! Really?? Can I get that in writing? Can I have your last name, where you live and your social security number? She was nice, but wasn't budging. She said that the foster care ID and letter from foster care are both considered government IDs (state government), so that coupled with the birth certificate will be enough. He will just need to undergo "secondary" screening at the airport. Although she gave me this wonderful news, she of course had to end by telling me that they don't control the ground agent at the gate. At least I can tell then that "Tracy" said it was OK. AHHHHHH
OK, need to go clothes shopping for Blake today then head up to the nursing home to sign a mountain of papers. I was actually hoping to get my own hair done before the trip, but that was just a silly, silly idea.