The Smoking Passport

I am a Texan, and have lived in Texas around the Austin and Killeen areas, as well as doing a stint in Texarkana (yes, the Texas side).

Not finding much luck finding a job in Texas, I reached out to a friend and asked if there were any openings. I interviewed, made the trip out, and was hired.

This meant I had to move to Oklahoma. Being a Texan, I scoffed at the thought of being in Oklahoma. I came into the state already hating it.

Much to my surprise, Oklahoma isn’t insanely horrible if you live in the OKC area, and you get used to the constant wind.

The Oklahoma job didn’t work out, so I went manic and moved to Oslo, Norway. Don’t ask.

On one of my trips back to the U.S., I was visiting my family in Texas. I was still pretty fresh from the airport, so I had my U.S. passport in my pocket.

I walked into the Round Rock H.E.B. and approached the cigarette checkout lane. I was happy I was going to smoke American cigarettes.

“Camel Menthols please.”

The cashier asked for my I.D.

I gave her my Oklahoma driver’s license, which I still had and was still valid.

“Sir, we don’t take out of state identification here. Do you have any other form of identification?”

I smiled, and pulled out my passport.

“Will this work?”

The look on the cashier’s face was priceless. I got my cigarettes.