Last week the major highlight was that, mom and I checked one big bag to Greenville and with all the hubbub of things with mom and the airport and all, I didn't even notice until it was too late that the helpful employee who was checking bags put the wrong bag tag on my bag. It wasn't until she asked to see my I.d. a second time and I looked up to see my bag going down the chute did I realize that they had put the tag of the woman standing next to me on my bag. So while they clickety clacked around on the computer acting like they were trying to fix their mistake, my check in neighbor and I spent about 15 minutes chatting, whereupon I discovered my bag was inevitably on it's way to a west side vacation in "sunny" Seattle via snowy Denver.
Sure enough, we got into Greenville late and found our bag was, as anticipated, in Denver. The hope was to catch it before it headed to, technically, Tacoma. But in the harsh light of the next day it was discovered that our overstuffed purple bag had gone onto the state of Washington and was then having to hop a flight back to Chicago to make it down south. Unfortunately, I believe Purple had gone standby and so she didn't make it back to ohare in enough time to jump on the little puddle jumper down to Greenville.
Two days later, still bagless and beginning to smell, mom and I had to go shopping. And now, after finally getting the bag, I'm furiously trying to find the form I need to submit to United with my receipt for reimbursement.
It's now Wednesday and I'm headed to Norfolk, VA via a flight hop through to Newark. That means I got to the gate 5 minutes early and found an anxious, already anticipatory angry mob of New Yorkers trying to all cram through one door at the same time. I booked my flight late so I'm currently smashed against the window on an oversold flight, pushed against the wall by a rather robust Indian gentleman currently conducting a business meeting in Hindi on his phone while loudly crunching on baby carrots and snack mix.
Indeed -travel is packed full of glamour! I'm so coated in glamour racked events I feel like Princess Grace of Monaco. Did she ever repeatedly have to remind herself "don't kill anyone, don't kill anyone".... Seriously - do you think she did? It would be encouraging to know someone even named "Grace" had the same invirtuous packed flaws as myself.
Just one more query... It's something I've observed for a while but had a few extra seconds to actually investigate and have still not found a satisfactory answer. In the B gate United Club, in the woman's washroom, the sink countertops are marble. There are two soap dispensers hanging on the mirror over the countertop. Directly under the release where the soap comes out of the dispensers, there is a large pit in the counter under both dispensers. What? There are two logical explanations. 1) the soap is so heavy that when it falls from the dispenser and misses someone's hand, it actually leaves a dent in the counter which has inevitably built up to a giant pit over the years 2) the soap is an acid based soap and, when missing a hand, falls on the counter and slowly eats away at the marble leaving a jagged, rough hole. No matter which answer may be correct, I'm a little scared of the United Club hand soap upon observation.
And with that, you are now all updated on all the important stuff in my life.
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