You know what they say—best laid plans and all that. Well, this plan? It detoured straight into chaos with a layover in Meltdown-ville.
I recently flew to Denver for a business trip, and let me just say—Denver International Airport (DIA) decided to humble me real fast. Now listen, I pride myself on being That Traveler™. I’m punctual. I pack light. I’m considerate of others. I don’t hog overhead bins or stress the TSA agents. I glide through airports like I’m in a travel ad.
Not this time. 🫠 This time, I was the walking, talking airport mishap no one saw coming.
It all started so innocently. I returned my rental car—a delightful Volvo XC40—and hopped on the shuttle like a woman in control of her destiny.
But what I didn’t realize – I’d accidentally kept the rental key fob tucked in my tote bag. You see, my own car has a push-button start, so I never think twice about keys anymore. They just… live in my bag like emotional baggage.
Cue dramatic gasp. 🎬
And not a cute one—more like “please tell me I’m not about to sprint through an airport like a caffeinated gremlin in three inch heels.” Spoiler: I absolutely was.
I checked my bag, separated from my travel buddy (shoutout to TSA PreCheck—you’re my MVP), and strolled toward the security line. Then, just as I reached for my ID… click. My finger grazed something metallic in my purse.
The key fob.
Still with me.
Still mocking me.
My soul left my body. 💀
I took off in a full-blown airport adventure movie, trying to find the right shuttle stop. Pro tip 👉🏼 at DIA, figuring out which level you’re on feels like trying to escape an IKEA, but with more escalators and less meatballs.
Eventually, I made it outside, sweaty and mildly feral, and flagged the shuttle. The driver? Calm as a cucumber. He chuckled and said, “Oh yeah, happens all the time.”
APPARENTLY WE’RE ALL OUT HERE FORGETTING OUR RENTAL KEYS LIKE IT’S A GROUP SPORT. 🏈
Crisis (temporarily) averted. I dropped the keys off, waved a sweaty thank-you to the shuttle driver, and made a beeline back to the terminal.
That’s when I realized my ID was missing.
Like, poof. Gone.
Oh. My. Luggage tags.
I ran back outside, scanned the sidewalk, rode escalators like it was my cardio plan for the week, and basically had a full existential crisis in the Denver airport. There may have been tears, I’m not sure.
Right as I was about to fully spiral, I got a text from my travel buddy:
“Hey… they’re paging you on the intercom.”
Comforting and alarming. 💥 What now?!
Also—can we talk about how NO ONE actually knows where to find a white paging phone in an airport? It’s like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts ⚡—appears only when you’re in total emotional distress. Honestly, it’s the 21st century and we’re still using a hard-wired white paging phone? Someone, fix that, ok?
Thankfully, I hunted down an information desk angel who was able to call for me. And guess what? Some actual saint had turned in my ID. 😭 Humanity: 1, Chaos: 0.
They told me to head to the basement (literally the first floor), which is four floors below TSA. Because nothing says “travel fun” like a panic-induced vertical marathon.
Cue another escalator trek—this time down to the basement. Not standing like Mary Tyler Moore holding her bag-o-groceries, I’m full on running down the stairs. At this point, cardio is just part of the journey. Who says you can’t get your steps in on a travel day?
I got there—sweaty, shaky, unhinged—and was greeted by a sweet agent with my ID in a tidy little plastic bag waiting patiently for me like a lost puppy. 🐶 ❤️
KUDOS TO YOU, DIA. You may be large and confusing, but your Lost & Found is elite.
Thirty-five minutes behind schedule but still blessed with spare time, I made it to TSA and—miraculously—still had time for a hard-earned, pre-flight glass of bubbly. 🥂
Lessons from this airport mishap:
And the biggest lesson of them all: Get to the airport in plenty of time to, ehem, relax before your flight. I know it’s a bit ridiculous, but I always, always get to the airport at least two hours ahead of BOARDING – not flight time. Sometimes, three – but I’d never admit that in public or on a blog. But, hey, we’re friends, right?
I like to relax, shop at the ridiculously overpriced stores and enjoy my bubbly before boarding – seriously. That day, thank goodness, I did. I had more than plenty of time to work myself out of the mess and relax.
Have you ever had a travel meltdown like this? Please, PLEASE tell me your story in the comments. Misery loves bubbly company. 🥂💬
