On Wednesday, January 20th I was scheduled to fly from San Jose, CA to Hartford, CT with a change of planes in Chicago.

It was like this…

I arrived at the airport two hours early, which turned out to be a good thing. Once I cleared security, the walk to the gate took me through several area codes and quite possibly a time zone as well. It was in short, not short. But because I was early I wasn’t worried. Little did I know what worries awaited me.

I boarded the plane and it appeared we were headed for an on time departure. But you know what they say about appearances. At 1:44PM, one minute before departure time, the gate agent (who we’ll call Chicken Little) came onto the plane and grabbed the microphone. Instead of the usual thank you for flying with us speech he announced that our plane would probably not make it to Chicago. Instead, it was likely said Chicken Little that we’d end up in Detroit or perhaps Minneapolis. He went on to say that those of us with final destinations other than Chicago might want to consider finding another flight.  There was a lot of groaning from the passengers followed by a small stampede to get off the plane.

At the end of the jet way, Chicken Little directed us to see the two customer service reps at the counter. We’ll call the reps Clueless 1 and 2 because unfortunately, while Chicken Little had alerted the passengers to the likely fate (Detroit? Really?) of flight 1232, he somehow neglected to mention anything to the customer service reps. Clueless number 1 was on the phone doing her best to ignore the growing throng of people in front of her. With number 1 busy, it was left to number 2 to figure things out. Tragically, she was instantly overwhelmed and I began to think Detroit might be a better place to be. Eventually number 1 got off the phone and from nowhere a number 3 arrived to help out. You might think the line would move quicker with three reps involved. But you would be wrong because number 1 who was working with a passenger suddenly announced she’d be back and disappeared never to return leaving the passenger at the counter. Perhaps she went off to have lunch with number 3 because in no time at all, 3 vanished as well and also never returned. Eventually a number 4 arrived and seemed to have no better grasp of the situation than numbers 1, 2, and 3.

Meanwhile, flight 1232 was going to take off for Chicago or Detroit or parts unknown at any moment. I’d been in line for half an hour but still hadn’t made it to the counter. I had hoped to find out if I could get to Hartford from Detroit or Minneapolis and if not what were my options. But with Clueless people disappearing left and right I had no choice but to run back onto the plane and take my chances. I flopped into a seat and quickly called my wife to update her on the situation. Unfortunately, they chose that moment to close the doors and the next thing I knew a flight attendant was telling me to get off the phone. I told her I’d be off in a moment only to have her rudely tell me to get off now. I hung up immediately and told her that under the circumstances perhaps a little leeway was in order. Her snippy response? “Well sir if you’d like we can open the door and all of us can wait for you to finish your conversation.” The implication being that I was chit chatting about nothing rather than explaining that I might be on the way to Detroit or even parts unknown. Rather than respond I reached for my trusted notebook and began chronicling the events to date. She clearly sensed she’d gone too far because after we were airborne she offered to buy me a drink (which I declined) as though a drink would make everything okay.

The flight itself was uneventful and after circling Chicago for about twenty minutes we managed to land. I raced off the plane in hopes of making my connecting flight. I was in luck as the flight was delayed and it looked like I was going to make it home after all. I called home to update the family and learned that the airline had called my house to say that my luggage hadn’t made it on to the plane. Perhaps arriving two hours before the flight was cutting it too close? They went on to say that they were going to “expedite” the luggage to Baltimore. That would have been great if I lived in Baltimore but since I don’t and since moving there seems a bit extreme, my wife (who definitely has a clue) politely suggested it might be a better idea to expedite the bag to Hartford. When I approached the customer service rep in Chicago about the errant bag she was ever bit as clueless as numbers 1 – 4 in San Jose. Her suggestion? “It could have been anyone who called.” Right. It was probably one of those wacky airline luggage prank callers you read about. That comment earned her a Clueless number 5 in my book.

I found myself wondering if maybe my bag had ended up in Detroit and if it had I hoped it would pick up a Tigers hat for me. I couldn’t wonder for long though as suddenly the flight to Hartford was boarding. Ordinarily this is somewhat routine, but nothing about this trip would be routine. When the gate agent put my boarding pass into the machine, it beeped in a most disapproving manner. The gate agent looked at the machine and announced that I hadn’t checked in. This was news to me especially since it is virtually impossible to have a boarding pass without checking in. She insisted I speak with the same clueless customer service rep (number 5) I’d spoken to before. Number 5 again had no explanation (no one seems to know anything) but eventually handed me a boarding pass with an “ok to board” on it and I got onto the flight.

After another uneventful flight, I found myself in the Hartford baggage office at almost 1AM. The baggage agent knew who I was as she had received a curious message about my bag. She had no idea (perhaps you see a theme here) where it was or what had happened. Her message indicated flight 1232 had been canceled. I assured her it had not. The agent thought my bag “might” arrive the following evening on the same flight I’d been on, which would put it into Hartford at 11:30PM. Hopefully, a flight attendant will offer to buy it drinks along the way.

I left the baggage office where they didn’t have much of a clue either but were too nice to warrant a nickname and went out into the cold to wait for my aforementioned wife to pick me up. Unfortunately, while my wife does have a clue she does not it seems have two working headlights and at 1:15 in the morning was being ticketed by the State Police.

This morning the airline called to say they’re on the case and “searching” for the bag. Since the word “searching” implies something is lost, I asked if they in fact actually knew where the bag was at that moment. “Why, it’s in route,” said the nervous voice on the phone. “Great” said the irritated voice in my house. “In route to where?” “Uh, Hartford” stammered the voice. That was over six hours ago. So far no bag has appeared.

On a positive note, despite the dire predictions of Mr. Little, I did arrive home safely with not a moment spent in Detroit. I can only hope my bag eventually finds it way home too. And when it does, I’m sure it will have a great story to tell.