Friday, November 26, 2010

Forgetful Beijing

"Do you see our bags anywhere?"

My head circled the merry-go-round filled with fat suitcases, tattered duffel bags, and two dog carriers with terrified inhabitants. Heaving a sigh, I shook my head. Out of the 300 passengers on the plane, fate would choose us.

"Excuse me," a shy female voice said from behind.

It was an airport employee and she was carrying a clipboard. We we either about to be interviewed for some survey or she was going to drop bad news on us.

It was the latter.

"Are you looking for your backpacks?"

My ears instantly caught our bad news. She said backpacks. How did she know we had backpacks?


She took a steadying breath. This did not bode well.

"Air China left your backpacks in San Francisco."

I laughed. It was easiest.

"It must have something to do with all the drugs, knives, and aerosol cans."

The lady laughed but we weren't kidding. Our bags were bursting with clothes as well as an aerosol can of Permethrin, anti-Malarial pills, and a box cutter.

"If you come with me, we can go to my office and fill out some paperwork."

Glad that our connecting flight was 10 hours later, we shuffled after her with one thought swarming through our brains: not again, not another disaster-ridden trip!