The Department of Homeland Security has got your Number. Literally.

Naturally, I left my passport at the Detroit airport last Monday. At 9:35 as I lay in bed gchatting Saturday morning, my phone rings.

“Hey, this is so and so at the Mac Terminal customs office. Just wanted to let you know that we’ve got your passport.”

“Really? Didn’t even know that I lost it. I’ll pick it up on my way to Prague next week.”

Et cetera.

It gives you a warm fuzzy feeling inside when the bureaucracy actually does its job, things find themselves in the right place and the system works. It gives you a creepy feeling inside though when you realize that the business card I have taped to the back page of my passport doesn’t have my mobile phone number on it.

I wonder what else is in my file at DHS. Personally, I don’t care how intrusive it is — I’ve got nothing to hide. They can implant a tracking device in my arm and send helicopters to follow me around, as long as my passport finds its way home before I go on my next journey.

I never liked that passport picture. It’s no wonder that I can’t lose it.