Skip to main content

Seeking My Suitcase

I recently returned from a long weekend trip. I traveled to a favorite city, one that I know well. I had planned to spend my time seeing good friends and visiting places I have seen many times. Yet, in the days leading up to the departure, I was still apprehensive. My concern had nothing to do with the trip itself, though. Instead, it was because of my track record when it came to visiting this particular city. Prior to this trip, I have flown into this city four times. All four times, I have taken a direct flight on the same airline. Three of the four times, I have flown into the same airport. Three of those four times, my luggage has not arrived with me. I could not help but wonder if this trip, flying in to the same airport, on the same airline, would have the same result. Or, would I be able to leave the airport without a visit to the airline’s baggage services office?

My flight arrived at the airport just ahead of schedule. I made my way to the baggage carousel and could do nothing but wait. Finally, after more than twenty minutes of staring at the empty, unmoving carousel, the alert bell sounded and the serpentine-style conveyor began moving. Very slowly, pieces of luggage began appearing, one by one. As other passengers hurried to claim their luggage, I was still looking for mine. Slowly, the once crowded baggage claim area began to thin. When I noticed bags I had already seen circling the conveyor again, I began to get nervous. Finally, after fifteen minutes of waiting, along with what was now only a few remaining passengers, I saw the handle of my suitcase. It came fully into view and made its way around the conveyor, where I grabbed it and began making my way out of the baggage claim area.

Before I could leave though, I had to make a phone call. My family knew all too well my history with baggage at this particular airport. I called them and excitedly announced that I was leaving the airport, luggage in hand. My streak, it seemed, had been broken.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Only In Seattle

    It was a slow afternoon at the tiny Seattle coffee shop.  As I opened the door, a group of three school-aged boys ran in front of me.  Each of the boys was lugging an overloaded backpack with them.  They obviously had just left the private school a couple of blocks down the street.  As I perused the menu, the three boys placed their orders, all the while joking with one another.  The first two each requested a pastry and a glass of water.  The third boy studied the menu a bit longer before deciding.        “Umm. . . I’d like a tall espresso, double shot, please.”          The cashier giggled a bit, thinking that her young customer was just repeating something he had heard adults order. After a few seconds, she jokingly said to him, “Alright. . . whatever.”        Noticing that the boy seemed serious, she looked puzzled.  Then, sh...

Time Enough For Courtesy

       Life is short, but there is always time enough for courtesy.                                                   ~   Ralph Waldo Emerson Emerson wrote these words in the nineteenth century, more than 130 years ago.  It was well before the time of e-mail and texts and instant messages.  At that time, even the telephone was still something of a curiosity.  Yet, when I came across this quote recently, I was struck by how it is as relevant today as it was during Emerson’s lifetime. Thanks to technology, people all over the world can communicate with one another.  All it takes is a few seconds.  Technology has totally revolutionized the way business is done and the way our lives are lived....

Catch A Cab

We had been walking for about forty-five minutes, making our way from Manhattan’s South Street Seaport to the Macy’s flagship store on 34th Street. When we were within fifteen blocks of our destination, some of my companions decided that we should complete our journey by cab. Despite my attempts to convince them to keep walking, they were insistent. The trip that ensued was a true New York experience. After a few minutes of trying, one of my companions was able to hail a cab. However, we wanted to go north. The cab that stopped was going south. It did not seem to matter, though, as my companions still got in the cab. One person sat in the front while I slipped into the backseat, between the other two. Hardly before the doors could close, the driver had fought his way into Manhattan traffic. Without warning, he took a sharp right turn onto a side street and began to head north, steadily increasing his speed. Within seconds, the cab was weaving a...