IDIOT.....

The last few weeks of my life have been out of control. Let me just say before I start that I am not usually forgetful. I do have a “system” and rarely lose things. I would consider myself fairly responsible but.... my life can get crazy!

So it all started at the end of a 5 day stretch of reserve. I was hoping to be home early on my last day and was really looking forward to a nice evening with my dad, Sebastian, Oliver and Hannah. All day Friday I would be in DC renewing my passport, I had an 8 am appointment and in the evening I was getting together with some old friends. But… pretty standard move, scheduling was nice enough to give me a Chicago turn with bad weather. I was not happy and I let them know.
Me: You have sat me here for 5 days and on my last day you give me this.
Them: Well you will be able to make it home tonight.
Me: You and I both know I will not get home tonight. We will be delayed and probably sit in the penalty box for hours.
Them: We have no one else.
So I fly out to Chicago and of course on the way back we were delayed for two hours. While sitting in the penatly box I started to wonder if I will even get back in time to make the last flight home. We finally make it to La Guardia and I didn’t have to make the choice of whether or not I would be able to go home, it was made for me.

On our flights we have to leave our bags in the back with the passengers. I walked back to retrieve my bag and it is no where to be seen. I begin to panic, no actually freak out. Then it hits me, some IDIOT took my bag instead of theirs. I calm down enough to see straight and see a bag still in the overhead. It must be the "Idiots" and I am holding that damn thing hostage until I get mine back. First off the lone bag was not even on the same side as I had placed mine. Yes they were both black but this one was much lighter, uglier and shittier than mine. I even had a green crew tag on my bag. Who is this complete moron and how far is this dumbass going to get before he figures it out? I frantically search the outside of the bag for a name, number, anything. I found a name, the great, smart and intelligent Tim Boylan took my bag. There was a number, I am too frantic at this point so my captain calls the number and its probably better because my message would not have been as polite as his. I sprint up the jet bridge screaming at the gate agent to page Tim Boylan. Tell that idiot he has my bag…..

I am going to have to hunt him down myself and at this point he better hope he is nowhere near the airport. I am scurrying around checking everyones bag. I probably looked like a lunatic with a serious mental issue. I run outside and searched the taxi cab line, weaving in and out of people. No bag and no Tim Boylan. So I walk over to baggage claim and tell a man named Fritz what happened. He felt horrible for me and after a lot of thought my mind begins to wonder. Why is his bag so light? Did he steal my bag on purpose? Is he going through my things? All my underwear better be there……

So the 3 phone numbers we found on the bag did not work. Freak out mode. I ask Fritz if his information was with his booking information. So Fritz looks it up and there is no record of Tim Boylan even on the flight from Chicago to NY. Oh dear god….. Call the cops. I am reporting everything stolen. I start going through everything that is in my bag. Favorite shoes, shirts, jeans, makeup, jewelry… I am about to lose it.

Then it hits me…. Tim Boylan could have been on the flight from NY to Chicago. Fritz looks it up and there that idiot is. So Fritz tracks down all his information. In the mean time I decided I am going to search his bag. In the bag was a pair of dress pants, a dress shirt, belt, shoes, boxers, overnight kit and a jacket. So maybe Mr. Boylan had a meeting, serves him right, I hope it was really important one and all he has is panties, bras and gold boat shoes! Fritz finds his number but for some reason it is missing the last digit. So I sit there and call every number 0-9. Finally on the last number I dial I  reach his answering machine, I leave a very nice message to call me back. I wait a little bit and no call. I would think that if I had grabbed the wrong bag I would be doing some research to find mine. Guess guys are wired a little differently.

So I turn psycho and after the 10^th call and googling him, I hear back from him.
Tim: “Oh hi… um I am very sorry about the mix up.”
Me: Well where is my bag now?
Tim: Oh well it is back in my hotel room.
Me:You made it all the way to the hotel room before you noticed it was not your bag.
Tim: Yea I am just really sorry.
I wanted to go postal on this guy.
Me: So when are you coming back to NY?
Tim: Oh I will be back tomorrow at 5 pm.
Me:Ok well your bag is with Delta baggage claim please go there and exchange bags.
Tim: Ok no problem. Thank you very much.

So I headed back to the crash pad and decided that I will get up early and catch the first flight back to DC. It will get me in before my meeting and I can just spend the entire day in my uniform since that is all I have and its my favorite thing to wear. I get up, shower and brush my teeth with my finger. I know gross but what in the world am I suppose to do at this point. I make it to my appointment and was told that my passport would be ready around 2 pm. Great, so now I have to spend hours in this monkey suit. I decided that I need a haircut, manicure and pedicure. Three things I never thought I would be doing dressed in uniform, people were definitely staring and I think I gave the Asian ladies something to really talk about. Too bad you never know what they are saying.

I get my passport and I was actually able to make it home, shower, pull something together to wear and found some makeup. It ended up being  a great night despite everything that had gone on in the last 24 hours!

I had to spend the next few days without my bag. I was really starting to miss my electric toothbrush Ali had gotten me for my birthday and I had never wanted to see my bag so badly in my entire life. It was time to head to work and I was commuting up the same morning as my first day of reserve. I show up at the airport and both of my flights on two separate airlines cancel… You have got to be kidding me. So I call scheduling and explain what is going on. They tell me to just get on the first flight to NY and if something comes up they will call me. So I sit and wait, from 5 am to 930 am. I had a bit of entertainment. I must of watch for at least a good hour a few elderly ladies and their morning activities.

930 finally came and I boarded the plane. Scheduling had not called so I was in the clear! I called them to let them know I was on the flight and if they needed me I would be in the air but would do whatever they needed me to do. All the sudden I hear them telling me to get off the plane. Get off right now. I sit there stunned and stuttering.
Me: Y y y you want me to get off the plane?
Them: YES NOW. We are going to get you a limo and have you taken to dulles. From there you will fly to Toronto then over night in Denver.
All I can think about is my bag patiently waiting for me to come and save her.
Me: Um… I do not have my flight case or even my overnight bag.
Them: Well that is fine I will make sure you get back to NY tomorrow.

So thank god Lucas and Jen saved me. They gave me a toothbrush and I was able to wear a pair of Jen’s jeans. The next day I made it back to NY and I swear I might of shed a tear when I saw my little bag. I hugged it and didn’t want to let go. First thing I did when I got back to my crash pad was brush my teeth and count my panties. All accounted for! Now my bag is covered in pink ribbon, but something tells me that would not of stopped Mr Boylan……

Simpy,
Meg