Update: No one ever found my ID, but I’m all through special security for dumbasses-who-lost-their-ID at PDX <insert joke about how the TSA agent should have gotten me a drink first.> I get to go home!
I’m thirty years old. This isn’t cute.
I’m at PDX airport. I no longer possess my ID. It might be at SFO, but I thought I had it on the plane.
Addendum: Still haven’t found it. It’ll be fine, though.
I’m just annoyed because I pride myself on being generally competent at living/taking care of shit and this was a lapse at that.