The Day My Luggage Went Missing in Action

Lost luggage can be a nightmare to any traveler. The risk of handing over your wardrobe and personal belongings to a bunch of guys tossing them into the cargo pit of the plane is always there. Even with modern airline technology, luggage horror stories still continue to be told. This is my luggage horror story. As a frequent airline traveler, I am lucky that this luggage horror story is my only one to tell.

When you fly from a cold, northern climate to the sunny and warm state of Florida, it requires a suitcase full of warm weather clothes. On this trip, bundled in jeans, a sweater, and a Down filled jacket, I had no worries that upon arrival that I could easily change out of my New York winter clothes and into Florida clothes, appropriate for the 80 degree temperature. This was the first problem. My luggage was nowhere to be found upon arrival.

Melting in my winter ensemble, I phoned the airline and finally gave them my hotel information and proceeded to the hotel to wait. This is the point where many travelers with missing-in-action luggage begin to make mental lists of what they packed in their suitcase. My list included a favorite bathing suit, my perfectly worn in Crocs, and a number of outfits I couldn't imagine living without. As time slipped by, it became clear that my luggage was missing.

The new airline rules for liquids prompted me to pack essentials like my contact solution and hairspray in the missing suitcase. By the evening, this became a real problem when I couldn't find solution at the hotel to remove my contacts. A few more phone calls later and still no idea what happened to my luggage.

The next day, after vowing never to check my luggage again on any airline, I got the call. My luggage had been found, sitting at the Orlando International Airport. It had apparently not made it on my plane. I have no idea what type of beating my luggage took on its mystery ride but it returned to me with security stickers pasted on it, clothes jumbled around, a broken handle, and what appeared to be splotches of dried liquid all over it. It was not pretty.

In the end, my beaten up luggage was found, but this 25-inch piece of luggage would never be the same. The broken handle made it impossible to maneuver it without pulling my back out so it was soon retired upon my arrival home. Since there was no way to prove the damage was from the airline, I let it go, thankful I recovered my belongings and could finally put on my bathing suit and go to the pool.