Baggage claims

People always seem to have stories about airlines losing their bags. They often seem to happen in odd corners of the world and involve several days of waiting, phone call ping pong and reused undies. Until this week I just had to nod sympathetically and say things like, “Aw, that sucks” and “Gee, what are the chances?” Now though, I can join this illustrious company. Flying from Melbourne to Denver, via Sydney and Los Angeles, one of my bags failed to make it out of Melbourne.

As easy as it would be to, I’m not going to bitch and moan. I have learnt there are certain pleasures and benefits from having your baggage go missing, for a few days at least.

A certain camaraderie can develop between fellow sans-baggers. It usually begins with a sharing of raised eyebrows and rolling of the eyes. After a few more minutes of conveyer belt observation someone might ask “How many bags are you waiting for?” It might be followed up with a “What colour’s your bag? I’ll let you know if I see it.” This is to show the other sans-bagger that you can empathise with them, but is really so you can grab their bag before they see it and hide it on the other side of the conveyor belt. This gives you a few more laps of not being the only one watching that green duffle bag with the pink lacy undies hanging out of the zipper. The sans-bagger friendship is sealed when you sit down together on the side of the belt and discuss travel plans, home towns and speculate on what else might be in that green duffle bag. I made some truly great sans-bagger friends in LA. They were a couple from Melbourne on their way to Nelson, Canada. They were people I had an instant connection with and it wasn’t just our shared lack of bags we had in common. These friendships develop quickly and fiercely, until the call comes over the PA that no more bags are coming. It is then a no holds barred race to the baggage counter.

When you reach your final destination you don’t have to carry as many – or any – bags to your car. This little bonus came with a bit of a guilt trip though. On my easy stroll carrying a single bag to the van my travelling companions, some of whom have one arm or one leg or a visual impairment or use a wheelchair, had to carry two. This guilt trip lasted until I remembered they would be able to brush their teeth that night. What is even better, you get your bags delivered to your door.

Thank you United. You have taught me about the kickbacks of having your belongings make their way across the planet in their own manner and time. Chances are I will never meet that couple again. I don’t think I even got their names. But I’m glad I got to share my inaugural sans-bagging experience with them. Having said that, I would be willing to carry my bags across a car park if I got to brush my teeth after 24 hours of eating aeroplane food.

Not my bag, yesterday.