<p><strong>lol</strong> weenie and momof2inca. Sorry to hear about the missing clothes but this <em>was</em> good for a laugh! </p>
<p>Last time we dropped S1 at the airport, H went in to tell him something and there was S1 digging into his suitcase right there in the lobby to get a belt because he pants were falling down. Just one of those minor details that couldn’t have been thought of ahead of time.</p>
<p>Thanks for the good laugh andi. That is too funny.</p>
<p>I keep reading this thread in some surprise that the bag has not yet turned up. It seems like it should have.</p>
<p>We do a LOT of traveling, and have only once had a bag lost for more than a few hours. But our traveling bags are all marked clearly–with a sharpie and also a tag–with husband’s last name and cell phone number. Our big bags (for SCUBA gear and son’s trips to and from college) are <em>yellow</em> duffels (Lands End) monogrammed with H’s last name (it’s a very unusual one). I also insist of seeing the actual tag on the bag before it gets sent down the chute. And yes, I’ve caught mistakes.</p>
<p>Weenie,</p>
<p>I am about and hour and a half from the aforementioned Unclaimed Baggage . . .it is amazing what you can find there. Don’t guess his name is on anything??</p>
<p>The bag <em>should</em> be easy to spot. It is an orange, Columbia, rolling duffle. All I know about ID on the bag is that when we went to Europe in June I made sure we all had those flourescent orange luggage tags with our names and addresses on them. Son claims his was still on there. </p>
<p>I am really surprised it hasn’t turned up yet too. The foolish thing is that I’m still thinking it will show up! I have to say though, the people at US Air (India call center) are not too optimistic.</p>
<p>Son went down to our airport I think it was Monday night and made friends with some woman at the lost luggage dept. there. He talks to her now and then, but she’s not optimistic now either.</p>
<p>Well we just got back from the mall (oh my god it was awful!) and replaced a pair of jeans, bought a pair of corduroys and a long sleeve shirt and a new hoody. He’s going to NYC for New Year’s, so there will be a frantic shopping trip next week if it’s still a no show.</p>
<p>weenie, I wonder if someone did not accidentally take it off the luggage conveyer/carousel thinking it was theirs, and then just not bother returning it or calling it in.</p>
<p>Well my suggestion is if you don’t see your clothes on eBay yet then the bag is either still lost or the kid who took is is just lovin his new wardrobe.</p>
<p>My wife & I had a streak of lost luggage, starting with our honeymoon. Ever since then (20+ years), we always have our essentials in our carry ons. BTW, every time, the luggage was eventually found and delivered to us by the airlines.</p>
<p>A honeymoon with no clothes doesn’t sound as icky and second semester frosh w/ few clothes. hehehe good story tho.</p>
<p>If son is going to NYC, why not let him do his shopping spree there? No luggage to carry!</p>
<p>OMG, weenie, I’m so sorry to hear that. That is absolutely frustrating. The airlines did once lose our luggage (luckily on the return trip home), but it was soon found and they delivered it to our door. I have learned to always place an index card inside our luggage that has our full name, address, contact information (including hotel name and number) and all flight information. We also mark our luggage by placing very bold multi-color ribbons on the handles of our suitcases. This has proven helpful in spotting it quickly on those conveyor belts. I do hope they’ll find your son’s luggage soon.</p>
<p>I don’t know if I’ve ever posted this before, but here is my lost luggage story:</p>
<p>Saint Riley Slocumb and the Maw of Hell</p>
<p>Transporting me on a recent trip to Dallas to deliver a series of homeschooling talks, United Airlines lost a box of my books. Seems that when I changed planes in Denver, one of the boxes accompanied me to Texas. The other had other plans, or at least there were other plans in store for it.</p>
<p>Disappointing, but far from the worst thing in the world. I had the notes for my talks with me in my carry-on, and even my clothes. Several boxes of books had arrived before me, and one was waiting at baggage claim. The plane hadnt crashed, or been rerouted by tornados; in fact, it wasnt even late.</p>
<p>Deep breath. Dont sweat too hard about that which you have no control, I muttered to myself, as I made a firm decision to take it in stride. And I strode over to the United baggage claim office.</p>
<p>And there he was. Riley Slocumb. I discovered his name from the security badge hanging from his waist. Uniformed, but certainly not in any way that might command respect. Tie an inch too narrow, in keeping with a body too thin, not from diet or exercise, but from some kind of existential insult. Age indeterminate I guessed 55 long, brown-gray hair slicked back high on the center of the scalp, bald spots pushing back from his temples on either side. We shared look-alike moustaches. Eyes not exactly dull, and not exactly bloodshot, not physically tired. Definitely world-weary.</p>
<p>Rough day, I began, then realizing this was a very odd way to introduce myself.</p>
<p>He looked up from the standing desk.</p>
<p>They lost one of my boxes, I sighed.</p>
<p>And then, first dimly, and then somewhat excitedly, I realized that from his point of view, there wasnt anything appropriate for him to do or say, other than deal with the mountain of paperwork.</p>
<p>You see, Riley cant put on a happy face and provide service with a smile. People, none of whom ever come to see him by choice, and all of whom would prefer not to even know he existed, might think he was mocking them. Commiseration is not what they desire, not from the appointed representative of the very company that had just shipped their new titanium-headed golf clubs to Bulgaria. They want action, they want answers, they want their bags and boxes and fishing poles and skis and childrens car seats, and they want them now and these are just the things he is virtually certain not to be able to provide.</p>
<p>Even before he could summon up a response to my question, and fully explain the paperwork, a violently energetic woman stormed into the office. Her gestures were writ large, and while I might have written that her painfully red hair was standing straight up, it would then have required a further note that the hair didnt know which way up was and so had, independently, decided to cover all the bases.</p>
<p>She took my bag, the tsunami half-shouted.</p>
<p>Who? inquired Riley, careful not to offend, but also careful not to expend the daily allotment of concern. It was only 2 p.m., and it was going to be a long afternoon.</p>
<p>The story poured out. Two women had virtually identical black, rolling carry-on bags standing next to each other at the baggage claim ramp. The first woman, after grabbing her checked luggage, walked off with the wrong carry-on as well. She might be well on her way to the Presidential compound in Crawford by now, for all we knew. I looked down at my black, rolling carry-on bag, smug in spying the pink-and-white lace ribbon I had tied to it still affixed to the handle. Good planning, I congratulated myself, using my mind to pat myself on the back. But I was caught up short by the disappointing realization that my good planning hadnt absented me from Riley Slocumbs acquaintance.</p>
<p>Im sorry, maam, said Riley, calibrating his comments carefully, But we are not responsible for carry-on baggage.</p>
<p>But, but sputtered the walking volcano, shaking from hairs end to feet, all my travel information, my wallet, my cell phone, my hotel reservation, my address book, my everything is in that bag! I remembered my mother having taught me to never put the important stuff in checked baggage always carry it with you on the plane. I shivered.</p>
<p>Riley paged his supervisor, and the supervisor and Mount St. Helens went out into the baggage claim hall, where there was now an unaccompanied black bag. Yikes! I had visions they might have to call in the dog sniffers, or the bomb squad, or even evacuate the airport and I hadnt filled in my paperwork yet. I picked up the pen. They simply took the questionable bag back to the supervisors office, and spilled out the contents on his desk.</p>
<p>In Rileys office, air molecules were now slowing down, and new air filled the vacuum where the supervisor and Vesuvius had been. But before I could blurt out my next question, Riley now standing at his post writing, a short, middle-aged, mousy-blonde woman, her face covered in shame, sheepishly entered the room.</p>
<p>I I left my coat on the plane, she mumbled apologetically, looking humiliated, as if she had just told her mom she had lost her lunch money. Can I go back and get it?</p>
<p>Im sorry, replied Riley curtly, being careful not to look up, and punching numbers into an unseen machine below the countertop. People arent allowed into the restricted area without a ticket or boarding pass.</p>
<p>Well, she pleaded, looking like she was about to burst into tears, Can you check with the plane, please?</p>
<p>Flight number?</p>
<p>1252.</p>
<p>Riley picked up the blue phone. I think he had three phones black, blue, and off-white used for various parts of the airport.</p>
<p>This is Charley-B. A women left a He looked up momentarily.</p>
<p>Light red, cloth.</p>
<p>A light red, cloth overcoat on flight </p>
<p>1252.</p>
<p>1252.</p>
<p>Can you get back to me if you find it? The tone of the question, intended to be overheard, sounded as if he wasnt very hopeful.</p>
<p>(end of part 1)</p>
<p>Part 2</p>
<p>And now I realize that Rileys past two encounters, while not particularly unique, are somewhat unusual for him. For about 98 percent of the encounters he has, the customer is right. Right, not as in The customer is always right, but really right, as in the airline has screwed up and the passengers anger is justified. He cant smirk behind his back at customers who are being unreasonable, like the hotel concierge who makes fun of the guest who complains that the chocolates on the pillow are not of her favorite Belgian semi-sweet variety. No, people just want the belongings they had possessed only a few hours earlier. We feel, in some fundamental way, violated, and that, in having misplaced our luggage, they have taken away a piece of our identity. Now if theyd only allow us onto the tarmac .</p>
<p>Are you here as a result of your karma, or are you being punished, or did you get this job as a promotion? I ask, handing him the paperwork.</p>
<p>The shadow which has been inhabiting Rileys face lifts ever-so briefly as he glances at the papers. There has been real human contact, and, perhaps, someone else has glimpsed, if but momentarily, his daily predicament. </p>
<p>Got any kids? I smile.</p>
<p>All grown.</p>
<p>Dog?</p>
<p>He smiles. We share an interest in preventing cruelty toward animals. He checks the computer. My box, he says, was checked onto the plane in Denver, which means it definitely made it to the Dallas airport.</p>
<p>Can we inquire back at the place where they unloaded? I ask, of course not knowing the first thing about how airport baggage handling works.</p>
<p>He picks up the blue phone. This is Charlie-B. Theres a box that should have come off Flight 748 that hasnt made it to baggage claim.</p>
<p>He has reached another operative on a blue phone, I assume. The baggage handlers have gone off to lunch.</p>
<p>Do you drink?</p>
<p>He grins. He is now into the spirit of our meeting for worship. Gave it up years ago.</p>
<p>Good thing, I reply.</p>
<p>I ended up waiting another 35 minutes by the baggage claim office. No box turns up. The frenzied and fuming, irate and irritated, miffed and peeved file their way toward Riley Slocumb. He hands out and assists in the completion of paperwork, being wary of offering anything that could remotely be construed as a promise, or arouse even the slightest wisp of expectation.</p>
<p>If we find your luggage, he says to one and all with little in the way of feeling in his voice, we will do our best to deliver it to you within 24 hours, so be sure to leave a phone number along with your address. And, he continues without the slightest hint of enthusiasm as he points to an 800-number on the carbon-copy of the form, you can call this number for any updates. </p>
<p>This was, of course, just a way to make sure folks would move along and out of his very circumscribed sphere of influence. I began to fantasize about how my box of homeschooling books made their way to Portugal, and was discovered by a baggage handler who took the books home to his family. Next thing I knew, three years later, I received an unsolicited invitation to address the newly formed Lisbon Home Education Association. (Later editorial note: 18 months later, I have now received my first communication from a Lisbon homeschooling family that had picked up one of my books.)</p>
<p>I now understand that I must get out of here. I am being sucked into this maw of hell, and if I stay much longer, I may not be able to leave. There should be a sign above the door to the baggage claim office, in the manner of Dantes Inferno, Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here. I will leave Riley to confront his demons, not with flaming sword, but with a strangely courageous, saintly equanimity. A holy diffidence. Perhaps he has been specially selected for this job, or it was discovered that he fits the psychological profile, or perhaps, like Odysseus, the fates have tied him to this mast and he now awaits the arrival of the harpies.</p>
<p>I am not sure whether I should pray for him, or to him, and shall have to meditate on that.</p>
<p>(P.S. The box of books was returned to me, after my speaking engagements, having been shipped off to OHare Airport in Chicago before my first cup of coffee in the early morning, never ever having touched down in Denver. It is part of Rileys destiny that, as to the outcome of my story, as with all the others, he will remain, forever, without a clue.)</p>
<p>OMG mini that is fabulous! Thanks for making me really laugh. Poor Riley, aren’t there just some TERRIBLE jobs out there in the world?</p>
<p>My family thinks I’m nuts sitting in here laughing when I should be planning (not to be confused with cooking) dinner.</p>
<p>Mini: Thanks for another fabulous story. </p>
<p>Weenie: I thought your family would be expecting you to be planning the shopping trip to provide S with clothes befitting his new status (being older than when he arrived by one year). I also expect the airline to reimburse you for the lost luggage.
By the way, don’t let your S go shopping by himself. I made the mistake of letting S do so. He grabbed the first parka he saw.
“Why should I bother looking at others if this one fit me?” said he. He probably bought the most expensive one in the store. I tried to explain the concept of comparison shopping to him; he did not seem to have ever been acquainted with it before. :(</p>
<p>You see, what I would do with my older d. in that case, is let her out of the car at Value Village!</p>
<p>(actually did, yesterday, and she came back with $110 worth of shoes for $9. Given that what I think most of us wear on our bodies is a virtual catalogue of oppression, it’s nice to have that oppression be secondhand. ;))</p>
<p>Mini,</p>
<p>It’s funny that you mention Value Village. I decided years ago that for general clothing, secondhand is definitely the way to go. I first decided this when I took my daughter (who is now 16 but was about 3 then) to a thrift store and told her she could buy whatever she wanted. She picked out 21 dresses, and it cost me less than $25.</p>
<p>We live in PA but do our clothes shopping a couple times per year at Village Thrift in Camden, NJ. If you want a purple Johnny Cochran suit, they sell very fast, but if you are looking for Ralph Lauren, Lands’ End, etc. more conservative clothing, they have tons and it is about 90 to 95 percent off the price of new. My kids feet are generally too wide for finding shoes at a thrift store. We went last week. Even my son who is home from college was able to buy probably about $500 to $700 of Ralph Lauren sweaters, polos, designer jeans, etc. for about $50. I am not wild about PAYING for designer labels, but since my kids are willing to wear used clothing and it is so cheap, I have no problem with it. I am upper middle class, and my kids’ friends would never suspect that we shop at thrift stores because my kids are ordinarily better dressed than their friends, and they can wear American Eagle, Abercrombie & Fitch, etc. stuff (last year’s models) and I never care if they ruin something, etc.</p>
<p>I have never limited what they can spend at the thrift store, as long as it is of good quality and they will wear it. We spent about $300 last week, and got a lot of very nice quality clothing. Even for myself, I would estimate that 90 percent of what I wear (except for my white dress shirts) is from a thrift store. Silk ties are typically about $1.50, which is less than the cost of dry cleaning. I once even purchased a Nordstrom’s suit for $15.00, and it fit so well I did not even have to have the inseam tailored!</p>
<p>We always hit Value Village first and as David mentioned D scored in shoes yesterday. As to lost luggage, last winter D got stuck in the Cinncinati airport for 30 hours and her bag did not make it back when she finally did a day and a half later. Unfortunately, she had left basically NO clothes at home when she left for school. We made a trip to Value Village and Target the next morning, and her bag arrived with in a day or so. She has learned always travel with the charger for her laptop, a change of underwear, and leave at least some clothes at home. Fortunately, this year’s trip home was way less eventful.
Ellen</p>
<p>When I was a Jr. at Geo. Wash. Univ many years ago in the 60s, I returned to campus early for a New Year’s Eve party at the British Embassy with a dear guy friend of mine. Stupidly, I put my suitcase down at a magazine counter at the airport and took one step forward to pay for a magazine. When I stepped back, my suitcase, with all my textbooks and notebooks, was gone. I was panic struck. </p>
<p>I was always a great student and an honest one…and, of course, thought that my journalism professor (head of the department) would understand what had happened. Instead, he ridiculed me, told me to use someone else’s books and notes (that works well right before a final), cut me absolutely no slack, and just made me feel this big. To this day I never forgot that lousy man, and to this day I alway tell the fund-raising people at GWU why I will not give one red cent to the institution. I couldn’t believe how mean he was to me, and how small he made me feel. And, how I was absolutely telling the truth, and how naive I was at the time. He should have had some compassion for me. I feel the sting of his words even now.</p>
<p>Measure your words carefully, with children, with your spouse, in the community. They can raise people up. They can cut people down. They can alter their futures for a lifetime.</p>
<p>Oh, and, with some humor, I remember that the top layer of my suitcase was packed with unboxed feminine hygiene products. :O)</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>So the thief got college textbooks and feminine hygiene products! Priceless.</p>