Well, I’m in the United Kingdom, finally. Unfortunately, my bag is still out there seeing the world.
Yes, that’s right, the airline has lost my suitcase. Which airline? Who knows? They sure don’t.
The way this journey unfolded, it’s par for the course. As I stood there in Manchester Airport, tired and watching a slow trickle of bags drop onto the baggage carousel, I already knew what was going to happen. You knew too. Oh, I hoped I was wrong (God, I really hoped I was going to be wrong), but I wasn’t. The air travel gods had it in for me. I was the last poor bastard keeping a lonely vigil as one unclaimed bag that wasn’t mine circled around.
Fate always wins
I should have known this would happen after Delta blew my connection. They rebooked me on Air France, but I was worried they might still send my bag on to Virgin Atlantic. Of course, when I asked the Air France gate agent in Atlanta (an American) what was happening with my bag, she seemed surprised, like my bag was an after thought. She tapped her keys, stared at her screen, and told me everything was set, but I wasn’t convinced. In fact, I was down right nervous because I used to work for an airline – – it just takes one dumbass along the vast complex chain of workers to fuck your day up. And dumbasses are everywhere and I’d just added new, complicating factors into the equation. There were too many moving parts involved for this to go smoothly. I knew my bag’s fate was sealed. But what could I do? Just hope for the best.
And I could hear the distant laughter of the airport gods.
A man and his backpack
So, I’ve got the clothes on my back along with my backpack with my laptop, tablet, Kindle and plug converters. My suitcase had my wedding attire, my clothes, medicine and toiletries. Last time I brought a carry-on case with some of my clothes and shoes so all my eggs weren’t in one basket, but this time I wanted to travel light. And what were the odds they’d lose my case anyway? (Why do I tempt the Universe so?)
So the baggage claim girl took my report and gave me the saddest emergency kit ever (one size fits all white undershirt and a bunch of miniature hygiene products that are so small a hobbit would feel cheated.) If I don’t hear from them in 24 hours I’m to call back. I’m already preparing myself for that conversation.
Meant to post this Saturday but fell asleep. Actually, I kept nodding off all day. Was a very long day.