And the travel saga continues.

Far from being over after I’d left the airplane, my continued disgust over the state of air travel wasn’t through. As I waded through hour 2 of delays in San Francisco (have I already made the joke about San Fran not being able to handle fog? It’s all blurry to me at this point. As it was to them, too, apparently) and finally got on the plane, I was ready to see my parents on the other side.

Parents I got, my bag I didn’t.

Yup.

Apparently between Dublin and Seattle my bag had been misplaced. Seeing as though I’d spoken to multiple representatives of the two airlines I’d flown that day who assured me of the safe passage of my wee bag (and mentally kicking myself for not carrying it on, as it was small enough to do so), I was understandably frustrated.

And exhausted. Did I mention it was 2am?

After filling out the necessary paperwork I headed off with my parents, staying overnight in Seattle to make the drive across the mountains the next day. Or later that day, rather. Anyways.

A trip back to the airport the next morning got us the phone number to a real human being- imagine that- and still no bag.

We drove over the mountains. Got stuck in the Christmas tree lighting ceremony for the tackiest little town in the world for an hour. I got to see snow, which was nice.

Next day we’ve gotten many calls from our dear baggage gal who assures us my bag has been found and is on a small plane coming to the local regional airport about 30 miles away from the parents’ house.

Dad and I drive down. I get to the counter. No one is around. The counter lady brings out a bag.

Too bad it’s not mine.

You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, at this point.

We’re driving home when my mom calls to say that the gal in Seattle realized she sent the wrong bag.

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,‘ my inner (and outer) monologue intones. I am not a happy camper. I am jet lagged and my wardrobe consists of garments hastily purchased from a local thrift shop and underwear I got at a slightly less used establishment. I’m charming. I look charming. I feel brilliant. I am just plain old unhappy, grumpy, and can’t be any fun to be around at this point.

To give you some perspective of my temporary thrift store choices, here is a t-shirt I got.

485

Back home.

Today I finally got my bag, with all things intact in it. I resisted the urge to hug it in the airport and instead acted like an adult for the first time in awhile and calmly unpacked the belongings I’d so carefully organized what is now almost 5 days ago. I wrapped the few presents I’d brought home, all miraculously intact, and hung my clothes up in my closet.

And charged my computer, because I need my technology back and I finally had a charger.

Four separate airport trips, two different airports, four consecutive days. And I get to do it all again next week when I go to Denver.

MEEP MEEP MOTHERFUCKERS.

*I’d apologize for all the swearing, but I’m not really sorry. You understand.

** HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I hope you all continue to enjoy this blog and have very Merry Christmases and New Years, wherever you are.

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