Bag left behind

Yes, travelling is wonderful and it is a privilege, even when it is accompanied by work such as this one.  My day began with the requirement to be up and at least moderately alert at 3:45am.  Next there was the drive to the airport in the dark and fog, with less than perfect windshield wipers.

Once I get to the airport, park the car, take the shuttle, check the bag, go through security (where I was the lucky recipient of a shoe pass, i.e., I got to leave my flip flops on), I find myself at the gate.  This is when I tend to relax a little from my travel anxiety.

This particular work-approved, cost effective itinerary had me going through Chicago, changing airlines and then on to Denver.  It crossed my mind that changing airlines mid route might not fare well for my luggage, but I quickly dismissed the thought.

The first flight was uneventful.   I even managed to doze off, which is rare for me because I am always mortified when I wake up to find that my mouth is hanging open.  All I can think of is some teenager snapping a photo of the middle aged woman looking ridiculous, only to share on some social media site.  Am I paranoid?

Of course I arrive in Chicago at the gate farthest from where I need to be, thus another shuttle and lots of walking and finally, we load up for my second flight.  Embarrassingly, I sat in the window seat, when my ticket clearly indicated aisle, only to be chided by some man who was way too old for skinny jeans.  Fine with me, I prefer the aisle.

Finally, we land in Denver and I go directly to the bathroom and then straight on to baggage claim.  I watch all of the mostly black suitcases go around and around until there are only a few stragglers left.  When it’s apparent that there is no more luggage to be found, I make my way to the baggage office to consult with the young man in uniform about the fate of my bag. He takes my information and with a few clicks on his keyboard tells me my bag is still in Chicago.  Great.  He promises he has located it and it will arrive on the next flight and be to my hotel as soon as possible.  Knowing how this type of thing can go, I am skeptical and begin to worry if I will be wearing the same clothes tomorrow, riddled with airport germs.

Later, I unpack the bag of toiletry items, nicely provided by the front desk and logon to my computer to check status on my bag, which wasn’t good at the time.  By the time I went to bed though, my last check showed that my bag would arrive at 9:30pm and be picked up by delivery truck and brought to my hotel.

I woke up with a start around 4:00am, after a nightmare about a hideous hairy, grey suitcase that uniformed airline employees kept insisting was mine.  I screamed, “Nooooooo!!” over and over again to no avail.

When I woke up again around 5, a quick call to the front desk, relieved all of my fears.  My bag had been delivered and they would be happy to run it right up.  The world was right again.  I had clean clothes, makeup and all the other necessities a girl wants.