why i should just keep my thoughts to myself and not tempt the fates. they always win.
I was always enamoured by the story of the three fates, sitting in a dark cavernous room, passing their eye around and slicing through lifelines when they saw fit.
Now, perhaps I tempt fate. Perhaps they know that I have this sixth sense and they don't like the fact that I declare what will happen, so they make the inevitable occur. Only to me. Always to me.
I was waiting to board the plane on my way to Arizona and I thought to myself, "this flight is pretty full. I bet they won't have room for my bag since I'm one of the last ones to board." I jockeyed for position as they called group 6 to the gate and wanted to take down the people in front of me. I get up to the front of the line, almost in the door, and the flight attendant decides (with me being the first in the line of this decision) that there is no more room for bags. My heart sinks, and honestly, there are tears because the whole point of not checking a bag is to not have the hassle of a bag getting lost, or having to wait for it.
I said to her: I am only going for the weekend. Do you promise it will be there when I get to Tucson?
She said: Yes, it will be waiting for you.
Me: Are you sure?
Her: Yes, I promise.
Me: No, but do you promise it will be there?
Her: Yes. But is there anything you need out of it?
Me: Yes, everything. I'm only going for the weekend.
I begrudgingly loosen my grip on the "handle" (which broke earlier as I took the bag out of my car), and my heart sinks as I wave goodbye to the bag, knowing that I won't see it at the other end.
I sit in my seat, turn on my phone and text to Brian:
Had to check my bag. Guarantee it won't get there.
I just knew. I KNEW the instant I was about to go through the gate that this would happen, and I KNEW that it wouldn't get there. Then I remembered that my passport was in the front pocket, and that the handwritten tag that she had put on it maybe wasn't so clear.
I land in Dallas and call Brian, who convinces me that the bag will be there when I get there.
I get to Tucson, walk through the airport, ready to have my perfect airport hello, with a big exciting kiss and hug. No Brian. Okay, I'm not upset yet, but I think perhaps he's late, perhaps he fell asleep, but I realy don't think so, and I don't think he'd forget me at the airport. He's never done anything like that. So I continue down to the baggage claim half-heartedly, with a bit of the hope that Brian seems able to have all of the time in me and I am trying to will the bag to appear.
The carosel starts. It stops. No bag.
I then go to claim the bag, still in tears.
Bag guy: what address can we send it to?
Me: I don't know, it's in the bag.
Me: It's in the bag.
BG: I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Me: I raise my voice in frustration: IT'S IN THE BAG THAT'S MISSING!!
I call Brian, still in tears. Mostly because these things always happen to me, also because my passport could be missing, but mostly because now the airline has stolen my perfect airport hello and has potentially stolen my happy weekend with Brian, some of the few days we get to spend together, because they are incompetent. I'm also angry because people who were in line BEHIND me at Toronto had their carry-ons — they were allowed to put them under the seat AND entire families of people who had ran to catch the plane had ALL of their luggage arrive in Tucson, whereas I was in Dallas for 2 hours and mine didn't. I was so frustrated at the world and it was ruining everything. It reminded me of when my friend John's son had picked out cupcakes for all of us to have at dinner and he was very excited. When he went to take his first bite, the top of the cupcake fell, face down, on the floor. The fact that the world would be this cruel was too much for his little three-year-old self to take. Which also goes back to my theory of why I never get excited about things. My ability to manipulate the fates is just too high, and American Airlines is evil.
The bag was found. It was on the next flight. After stalking the airport for most of the day yesterday, we finally got the bag back at 3:30 – which stole a day from us – but I wore my gross clothes from the day before to Brian's rehearsal, then when they FINALLY arrived, in the back of a pick-up truck, in the hot Arizona sun, we were able to continue with our day and go shopping and out for a very nice pre-six-month-anniversary (it's next week) dinner. The moral of this story? Don't tempt the fates when you know of the powers you hold, and American Airlines is evil.