Unreal ID

As everyone on the planet knows by now, all you need to attend a state dinner at the White House is either a red sari or a tuxedo -- and lot of chutzpah.

But, and this is even stranger, unless something changes drastically within the next 30 days, I'm going to need a passport to take a domestic air flight.

Huh?

That's because I live in New Mexico, which is one of the 36 states not compliant with the Real ID Act, which goes into effect Jan. 1, 2010.

After Jan. 1, my New Mexico drivers license, by act of Congress (the usual suspect) becomes a piece of unreal ID, which means I may never return from my Christmas vacation -- unless the passports ordered last Friday arrive within the next 23 days, which would be truly miraculous.

The Real ID Act also bars access to federal buildings to folks stuck with unreal ID at the start of the New Year, and I thought that included my local post office.

But Pete Rendina, a spokesman for the U.S. Postal Inspection Service, assured me that the customer lobbies of all post offices will remain open to one and all, including those of us rendered unreal by legislative fiat. In fact, Rendina encouraged me to drop in and buy some stamps after Jan. 1.

I'm assured by the folks at the office of Sen. Jeff Bingaman, D-N.M., that New Mexico will get a waiver on compliance with the act until late next year, so I will be able to return from my vacation on a domestic flight without a passport.

Otherwise, I've figured out an update to the Kingston Trio's 1959 hit, "The MTA Song," about the man who never returned from a trip on the Boston subway system because he did not have an extra nickel for a transfer.

So, sing along with me:

Bob handed his drivers license

At the TSA counter

To get on the plane

"Where's your passport?" the TSA agent asked

Bob could not get on that plane.

Did he ever return,

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearn'd

He may stay forever

On the beaches of Hawaii

He's the man who never returned