Unreal: Here for It, #343

Hi! It's R. Eric Thomas. From the internet?
Hi!

Generally, I am someone who likes to have all my ducks in order, my eggs in a basket, and my cardinals in a conclave. I'm organized and a rule follower, for the most part. But, unfortunately, when it comes to the RealID I am actually about to go full anarchy.

No, I do not have one yet, for reasons that are both mundane and high-key dramatic. And no, I do not see myself spending a day in this one precious week standing in line at the DMV like I'm a forgetful parent on Christmas Eve trying to get a Tickle Me Elmo from the last Toy 'R Us in town.

Y'all gonna get the bootleg version, Tussle Me Elbow, and you're gonna like it. Merry Christmas.

I was flying back from Florida this week, in an airport that was essentially empty because my plane was the only one left to depart that day, after having been delayed a few hours (and yet somehow with even more hours of mechanical delays in front of it). I walked up to TSA PreCheck, gave the agent my ID (not Real, fake. The name on it is Euphegenia Doutfire and the photo on the ID is Michael B. Jordan).

The TSA agent then took my picture with that "this is probably not a great idea in the grand scheme of present history" surveillance machine. So, already there are three processes in place that have confirmed I'm who I say I am--my ID, the PreCheck, and the photo that sent my picture directly to Marco Rubio for him to give a thumbs up or thumbs down like he's Denzel Washington in Gladiator II: Gladder.

The TSA Agent looked at his screen and then said to me, "Well, looky what we have here." He really said this! Like he was a bully in an afterschool special. He held my ID aloft. "After next week, you won't be able to fly with this!" I mumbled something like "Oh, haha, yeah" which is wonderful dialogue I will be putting in my next screenplay.

He gave me my (fake) ID back and I went to go sit in a chair for the next five hours while various American Airlines flight attendants took turns finding creative ways to say "plane broke; seems bad." I watched two entire movies and ate zero foods because the Chili's in the Key West airport had closed. And the entire time, I thought to myself "Now, if this is good enough to prove I'm me today but not good enough to prove I'm me next Tuesday, what changed?"

It must be me. I am in the process of becoming unreal.

I just can't be bothered. The United States of America thinks I'm not acting like myself lately? Okay, America, fix your wig before you speak to me, okay?

Also, I'm moving in two months, so you're telling me I have to get a RealID with my soon-to-be fake address and that will make my upcoming 45-minute flight from Philadelphia to Boston more secure for the nation? Alright, babe!

Like, I'll be going away for a weekend with at least 4 theme parties, so, yes, I will be traveling with a suitcase full of disguises like I'm Tom Cruise in a Mission: Impossible so I can see how you'd want to make sure that I am who I say I am (beloved children's television host Mrs. Doubtfire). But I just don't see how me waiting at the DMV for hours while they hem and haw over my objectively janky-looking old lease is going to do that. Let's all work together on a solution that makes more sense. Who would want to steal my identity, really? To what end? I suspect that some criminal who truly couldn't figure out any other way to get from Philadelphia to Boston than a plane would take one look at the general state of my life and be like "Girl, you can keep it."

As I was writing this, I discovered that Facebook had locked my mostly dormant account because apparently someone was trying to break in and take that, too.

But when I got it unlocked and ran a diagnostic, Facebook said that nothing had been changed or altered. Some identity thief had started off going "Well, looky what we have here..." and then, seeing what I'm dealing with here, had gone "Girl, fix your wig!" and jump through a wall like a reverse Kool-Aid man. And if that's not foolproof security, I don't know what is.

My dear friend Chris Newcomer and I are doing an improv talk show on Friday May 9 at 7pm. We're inviting two guests who have a project to promote with a clip. The catch? They've never seen the clip before. Chaos ensues.

My new play Glitter in the Glass, about a brilliant Baltimore artist being driven almost to madness by her quest to figure out what to put in place of a Confederate monument, begins rehearsals this week featuring a really phenomenal cast. We start performances May 29! Tickets and information here.

"Girl, fix your wig!" ,
Eric