The more things change, the more things stay the same...

Here we are: Summer 2012. I guess I could entitle this blog entry: The more things change, the more they stay the same... So much has changed since I first started coming to Castel del Bosco for my summer vacations. I have lost 140 pounds, for one thing. I no longer teach full-time. My Italian is much better, having actually LIVED in Siena for 3 years. However, what has stayed the same? No matter how hard I try, I will always arrive in Italy, whether it is at the Pisa Airport, or into Milan or Rome... with at least one piece of luggage missing. This year, both bags decided to stay in London an extra night. I guess they thought that if I couldn't enjoy a longer layover in Heathrow, they would oblige on my behalf. I knew even before leaving Washington that I would arrive at Pisa without my bags. My 6:40 PM flight did not actually take off until after 8 PM. This delay meant that I would have precicely twenty minutes to deplane from flight #1 and board flight #2; inorder to do this, one must traverse terminal 5, passing again through passport control and security. As I left the plane (thank GOD I was in business class, so was at the from of the line to exit), there was a British Airways employee waiting with a sign for the Pisa flight. He ticked my name off and handed me a bright orange "express connections" pass. This is essentially a "fast track" pass, which I already had, since I was travelling business class. What I really needed was a "front of the line" pass, which I don't think exists, unless you are Sting or Madonna or Lady Gaga. So, I made my way through passports relatively quickly to the purgatory which is Terminal 5 A Gates security, only to wait and wait and wait. I do not understand for the life of me, nor will I ever understand, why people approach airport security as if they have never flown before. They are resplendent in fake metal jewelry, forgetting to remove belts and shoes, neglecting to take out computers and iPads... And, there is ALWAYS a half empty bottle of Diet Coke in a backpack or purse. When it was my turn to cross the threshold of the metal detector, I had to wait. Of course, they let 6 men pass through ahead of me. But, I had to wait, because the WOMAN in front of me was being patted down on account of the change she had left in her pants pocket. When I questioned the guy on the other side why they were letting me through, he stated it was because if I had a problem, he couldn't touch me. "You have got to be kidding me... I swear, I won't be a problem." He assured me it wouldn't be much longer. I kept explaining that my flight was LEAVING. He couldn't have cared less. When it was finally my turn, I raced through, collected my backpack and purse and took off for gate A-17 at a sprint! A-17 was about as far as I could have been from security, of course. I arrived just as they were getting ready to close the gate. Thankfully, I was able to board, however, my bags never made it on. The flight itself was rather unremarkable. I got to Pisa, went through passports and went directly to the luggage carrousel. I stood there, obediently, waiting to see if my mocha rouge Vera Bradley luggage was coming around the bend. Of course, I knew, logically, that it wasn't. However, there was some part of me, the obedient rule follower part, that stood and waited. When the last bag had been collected, I went to the 'lost luggage" counter to make my claim. I was not the only one who had a close connection, so there were several of us waiting. I took my number (76) and waited. They were assisting numer 41. I knew I was in for the long haul. We were instructed to wait outside the glass doors of the office until our numbers came up. We waited and waited and waited. About 45 minutes later, when none of us had been helped, yet the office was still full of people, I went in and asked what the problem was. I was shouted at and instructed to continue to wait outside by a rather severe older woman. So, being the rule follower I am, I returned to my perch. Another 15 minutes passed and the number was still 41. I returned to the office and went to the young man at the desk and said that we were waiting an hour now and the number had not changed. He instantly punched the number button all the way to numer 79 and called for 79. This was so arbitrary and random, I could barely speak. But, speak I did. "Whoa! I'm number 76!! What about me?!" He conceded that he had missed me and motioned me to come forward. Whatever. I just wanted to get my rental car and go get supplies for the interim... So, I went through the process of declaring my luggage lost. It was rather embarrassing because the young man asked what was in my bags... I couldn't bear to say that one entire small roller bag was full of 24 kilos of gummy vitamins, sugar free coffee syrup, Luna bars and other random supplements and drug store items. So, I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "you know, what you would expect..." To which he replied, "so, personal effects." To which I replied, "yeah, let's go with that: personal effects." "Anything to declare?" "Good heavens, no!" (Of course, if any of my quirky cargo was prohibited, it would never have made it out of London...) And, with that, I was released with a slip of paper outlining my rights and responsibilities as a BA passenger without luggage. I picked up my car (thankfully, there were no problems with that) and went to the IperCoop on the way home and picked up food, water and random sundry items to last me a couple of days (a cheap bathing suit, a couple of tshirts and some underwear...). In the end, my bags arrived the very next day. They were waiting outside my door when I arrived back from the pool. When my Mom and sister-in-law came many years ago, my mom's bags didn't make it. We did the same IperCoop run and went to the beach the next day. And, sure enough, the bags were waiting for us when we returned home that evening. So, the moral of the story is that if you lose your luggage, go to the IperCoop, buy a cheap suit and hit some sun and water. Like clockwork, your bags will be waiting for you when you get home. I should have applied that formula to the situation the last time I lost my bags coming in through Milan. I will definitely be testing the theory next year, when I arrive sans luggage!