I do not have clean underwear.
The best part about going to Los Angeles is sitting next to an eight-year-old beastchild who cries and whines and bellyaches because she wants to watch a Disney princess movie and then for some reason, she throws up on her mother and the stench overwhelms the entire cabin. OK no, you’re right. That’s not the best part. The best part is sitting next to a couple who decides to fight for the first half of the trip and then make out the second half, but wait, they are sitting behind the boyfriend’s parents! What?!? Who does that? No wait, alright, alright, I’m lying. That is not the best part either. The actual real best part about going to Los Angeles is landing at LAX and waiting over an hour at the “baggage carousel” which is, interestingly enough, not as festive as a carousel but twice as annoying. The even bester part is that when the bags finally start coming down this baggage poop chute contraption, you realize they are totally drenched from the rain. But wait, wait, that’s not really the best part. This is the best part:
People tell you–unapologetically–that your luggage has gone missing. They just don’t know where it is, they’re sorry. The good news is that they will write a claim on your behalf. Oh how lucky I am. What does the bag look like? I say it’s green. They show me a profile sheet of different bags of different styles. Kind of like when people go to the police station and you flip through books that have pictures of criminals, except instead of criminals there are bags with labels like “soft-material, upright, with wheels and extending handle.” So now there is a claim on my behalf! 1 bag, style: 22, color: GN. I would rather write a claim on my own behalf, to be honest. After all, I am a writer. I can write my own claims, thank you. If you start writing for me, then I will be out of a job. So, then, my claim:
CLAIM: YOU HAVE LOST MY BAG. YOU HAVE NOT ONLY RUINED MY CHRISTMAS, YOU HAVE RUINED EVERYONE ELSE’S CHRISTMAS BECAUSE THEIR GIFTS ARE INSIDE THAT BAG. YOU KNOW, THE ONE THAT “HAS GONE MISSING.” MY CLAIM IS THAT YOU ARE INCOMPETENT.
There was another woman too, whose bag had also “gone missing.” She was on her way back from Australia. She was very tired. She started to cry. Then she started to get angry. Then she started to cry. I was exhausted just listening to her.
Having said all this, I am in Los Angeles. Hello, there. Also, I do not have clean underwear and my hair smells like vomit. The time is 5:17 am New York time, which I am currently on, despite the fact that I am in Los Angeles. I am wearing random things that belong to my mother, including her underwear. It is new underwear, fresh from a little tube, but still, it is strange to be wearing my mother’s underwear. Plus, it is big. Because she’s bigger. My mother laughed at me. Thanks, Mom. Why don’t you just kick me in the throat while I’m down? It’ll make the lack of luggage go down much easier.
I am going to go to bed now in order to wake up from this horrible nightmare. Maybe tomorrow I will have luggage and my friends and family members will have gifts. Or maybe not. If that is the case, I shall continue to sleep.
Hey, maybe you should rock your mom’s underwear at your next gig, kind of like Angus’ shorts.
i am convinced that TSA stands for=Travel Shitty Airlines. hope your luggage turns up…
Terribly sorry for your misfortunes dear Annietect, but maybe some wee destitute child with dull skin and shiny eyeballs that just happened to be flying on some make-a-wish flight out of New York received your bag full of gifts and is overjoyed to have those 23 copies of your book in hand…
I think you’ve been gifted with an essay about going home for the holidays.
Yeah! I know what you mean–although I didn’t lose anything except my suitcase. You see, the airline broke my antique, 1940’s, small, leather case with the original brass ID tag and a faux silk lining. They offered to fix it or replace it. I asked them to fix it. I got a letter several months later (were they really working on it all that time? Days, nights, weekends…) saying they couldn’t fix it, but they were sending me a replacement. When it arrived, it was a hard plastic, big blue thing. It in no way seemed to be a replacment for my elegant little case. Grrrrrr!
Somehow, everytime when I travel from home to home, I always wish they “lost” my luggage, so I don’t have to carry it and they have to delievery that to my front door. So far, they have been doing a terrific job of losing my luggage, I think 5 out of 5 times, they were able to find my luggage and delievery to me.
On top of that, I think you can go wherever to buy new clothes such as underwears and write your claim, as long as you keep the receipt. You haven’t got your luggage back yet have you? Oops…
Steve: Disturbing yet a good idea.
Ian: I don’t even know who is to blame for it. I’m never flying again. EVER.
VK: Hahaha it’d be rad if some destitute child’s last wish was to have 23 copies of my book. I totally wouldn’t give it to her.
Doretta: I’m also gifted with NO HOT WATER at my parents’ house.
Tracy: Oh dude that sucks. I can’t believe you fly so classy. You are a fancy person.
Kai: They finally found my luggage (see latest post).