Uncle Patrick's Tragic Traveling Tale of Woe!

Part II

Needless to say, three or so hours in a cold hotel room was not really enough to get us back into fighting trim. I won't bore you with details regarding the shuttle ride back to the airport, save to say that there were no swarthy little men or fellows just in from Mexico involved.

I wanted to check with our airline's luggage desk to see if someone could give us a better idea what happened to our stuff, but it was not open at 4 in the morning. We checked in and flew to Phoenix none the wiser.

Our sluggish friend booked us on a flight from Phoenix to Reno on another airline, so we had to go through security again. The TSA people were particularly slow there and they paused with every bag that went through their screening process, squinting intently at their monitors. I suppose I should be appreciative that they were diligent but I was very tired and I felt like a BB bouncing around in a boxcar, with no control over where I went or how I got there. Linda passed through before me but, while I waited, the fellow at the monitor stopped the queue to get a better look at her bag. Apparently, he was very confused and needed help. He also had a weak voice, for when he called out for assistance I could barely hear him and I was standing right beside him. Eventually, someone happened to float by and heard his plaintive pleas. After more squinting, they determined that everything was fine and we were allowed to continue.

When we got to Reno, I felt confident that our bag made it there before us. After all, the airline employee told us that it went ahead and he wouldn't lie to us, right? We strolled to the airline ticket counter to ask about it. There was no one there. It was midmorning. We turned to our left and to our right and watched other airlines and their ticket counters fully staffed and operational. The ticket counter before was was dark. There were no signs that told us that staff was out to lunch, or that the counter was closed. No indication at all what was going on. Did they know we were coming and decided to hide?

So we stood around for a while, uncertain about what to do (remember: less than three hours of sleep). An employee for a rival airline, working a ticket counter nearby, took pity on us and slipped through a door and, after a few moments, emerged with an employee from our airline. She blinked rapidly in the sunlight. It turns out that there were only two flights to and from Reno from her airline that day and we caught her between flights. Apparently, the airline did not feel the need to man its counter during working hours unless it was absolutely necessary.

I am being unfair, of course. Once the airline employee grasped our situation, she boldly stepped into the breach. Between profuse apologies about the way her fellow employees treated us, she set to work on her computer. My spirits lifted for a moment, happy that someone was working on the problem. Unfortunately, my spirits were soon dashed when she informed us that our luggage was not in the system. She had no idea where the suitcase was; no on in the Denver airport bothered to enter the status or location of our bag into the database.

The three of us rallied and put our heads together. Hypotheticals were proposed and tested. The employee placed a world-wide call for any information regarding our bag. Linda and I took turns scouring the baggage claim area, on the off chance that the bag flew in on another flight and sat - lonely and terrified - in some dark corner of the airport. The employee pumped all of her contacts in other airlines for information. Nothing worked. We filed a claim with the airline and fretted.

At some point in the process, I went to the office of the airline that took us from Phoenix to Reno (recall that it was a different airline from the one that we started with). I explained our situation as best I could and asked that they forward our bag to the original airline's ticket counter, should it arrive. When I returned, Linda was in deep conversation with a manager of the original airline. We ended up with a comped hotel room and instructions on where to file a claim for our luggage. It turns out that we should have filed a claim with the airline that took us from Phoenix to Reno. No one told me this earlier, when this information would have been needed and helpful. I had just come from the other airline and no one told me to file a claim with them. I didn't even know enough to ask. I understood their reticence once I learned that the airline responsible for the claim would have to foot the bill for any charges concerning the delivery of our suitcase. No one wanted to pay out money, if they didn't have to.

Linda and I decided to trust in the computer system and get to our hotel as soon as possible, to catch up on our sleep. Our next stop was the car rental desk. As it turned out, it was the attendant's first day on the job. After much pecking at his computer keyboard, he nearly rented us a car that had British Columbia license plates (that would have gotten us pulled over by the local cops) for twice as much as the amount we told him we would pay. There was a good ten minute discussion about insurance - three different contracts were filled out and then shredded - before someone who knew what they were doing came forward and gave us the car that was larger than the one we originally asked for but at the price we were originally quoted.

By that time, I was on the verge of running away, screaming at the top of my lungs. The whole experience was a test of my restraint and intestinal fortitude and I nearly lost it at the end. We still had enough wherewithal to go to a Target and buy clothes and other stuff necessary to be functional on our trip, in the event that the bag disappeared from the face of the earth. I drove us to the hotel in our (presumably) legit rental car, checked in, and collapsed.

We slept for over ten hours. I slept so soundly that I did not hear the phone ring. The front desk left us a message, informing us that our suitcase had arrived and was waiting for us. All's well that ends well, I suppose.