Hick returned home from his week-long east coast trip last night. Without his baggage.
He never checks anything except his suitcase full of clothes. But this time, he had to leave behind his tools and his clean uniforms, because he will be going back to finish the job. He had to buy a cheap bag (ten dollars to be exact) to take up the slack for his left-behind bag. He carried on his travel bag of medication, and the cheap bag of personal clothes, because he knew it would be beat to $!*#. He included in his checked rolling suitcase his steel-toed work boots, his recently obtained orthotics, his breather, his dirty underwear and socks, and his Crestor. I don't know why Crestor is in the doghouse. Why he couldn't ride with the cool meds in the pressurized cabin. But I'm not here to defend a shunned statin. The checked bag was lost between Boston and Chicago.
Hick said the Southwest people promised to deliver his lost bag to our house today. I laughed. I've watched those airport shows. On the Fly, specifically about Southwest Airlines, on TLC. And Airport 24/7 on The Travel Channel. And Baggage Battles. I told Hick, "Yeah. Sure. They're going to deliver it to your house? I don't think so. Right now it's probably in an aircraft hanger with 50,000 other bags, waiting for people to bid on it at auction. Boy, is somebody going to be mad when they pay a couple thousand dollars for your breather and dirty underwear!"
Hick insisted that he was told the bag would be delivered by Fed Ex. Until this morning. when Southwest called to tell him that his bag had arrived in St. Louis, and they would have it here by Tuesday. Having already gone the night without breathing, needing his Crestor, and requiring his steel-toed boots for work Monday, Hick waxed cantankerous. Sorry. Southwest can only deliver lost baggage within a radius of thirty miles. Otherwise, they have to contract the job, which takes longer. You know. Because people who travel all live within thirty miles of an airport.
So Hick planned to drive to the airport for his bag of vitals. He was promised a one-hundred-dollar travel voucher for his trouble. But he didn't really want to spend the day driving to and from the airport. So he called back and asked if the driver could meet him halfway, at his workplace. Sure thing. Within a four-hour window of time. However, the driver called before leaving, so the transfer was made without a hitch. But there was no voucher.
On the bright side, Hick will be breathing all night, with even-keel cholesterol, a pile of dirty socks and underwear back under his own roof, dreaming of how safe his toes will be at work next week.
Glad it all turned out well. Sometimes it's hard to figure out how bags get lost.
ReplyDeleteHick takes chances, but he isn't much of a gambler. That $100 would have had me driving in circles.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure you're all breathing easier now that Hick and his bags have escaped "Frankenstorm!"
ReplyDeleteI'm with Linda. I would have driven the whole way, collected that $100 and spent it on something fun. (Like 20 concretes from Ted Drewes--taken home with some dry ice--and enjoyed for the next 20 weeks/days/hours.)
ReplyDeleteStephen,
ReplyDeleteI'm disappointed not to eventually see Hick's bag on TV, with a treasure-hunter cursing his bad luck for buying dirty underwear.
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Linda,
But you don't have a herd of goats and flock of chickens that you've been away from for a week.
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Tammy,
Hick is breathing easier after the reunion with his breather. We were a bit concerned as to whether he would make it back before the airports were affected. He will be going back soon, and hopefully Sandy doesn't dump on Massachusetts to the extent that his mission will be delayed.
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Sioux,
If it had been actual money, and not a ticket voucher for Southwest Airlines, Hick would have walked up there to get it.
I always take my RX on board with me, I figure I can live without my clothes ......
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteHick usually figures the same thing. But the tool-leaving upset his baggage equilibrium. Maybe the two of you can go on a trip together. You can breathe for him at night, and he can clothe you in his dirty underwear. Sort of like a breathless, stinky, Gift of the Magi kind of story.