I have a cold. Or allergies. Whichever. I needed Sudafed. The good kind. The one that you have to hop on one leg, spin three times, offer your next unborn child, and produce a government issued ID thanks to all the meth addicts out there. I long ago let my license expire. That line at the DMV is long, y'all. REALLY long. So I brought my passport with me. The same passport I used two days ago when I bought Children's Sudafed for Emmi.
The lady at the register scans the sudafed then asks for my ID. I hand over my passport.
"Ma'am, I need to see a government issued ID." She slides my passport back across the counter.
"It's a passport," I say matter-of-factly, as if that should explain everything. Obviously not.
"Ma'am, you can't buy this without a government issued ID."
I know I now have the "you are an idiot" look on my face, but I am trying to have patience. I need that Sudafed. I explain, "A passport is a government issued ID."
She looks at me like I am dumb. "No. It. Isn't."
"Okay then," I prompt. "Who issued this passport, if not the government?"
She smirks. She knows she is right, and I am wrong. "The. Post Office."
Oh yes. The Post Office, not the US Department of State. Silly me. In rain or shine. And also in charge of foreign travel. And by the way, the United States Post Office is a government agency. Just sayin'.