The Case of the Rogue Suitcase

“Adventures in Travel” is one constant you can count on as an international consultant. Some things always work well and some not so well, and I seem to attract all the fun. As promised, in my next few blogs I’d like to share some stories that may help you avoid your own personal “travel adventure”. Or, at least, it will make you smile!

It was January, (translation: Dr. Zhivago weather in Siberia…) and I was challenged with a very complicated schedule for visits to two different countries on two continents for 3 weeks. Just packing for that adventure was not for the faint of heart. My first two weeks were to be on the Siberian border, (yep, in January) followed by a week in sub-Saharan Africa which was summer time for them. I have a history of losing luggage, so wise travel gurus might suggest carry-on. Now, how does one pack carry on for 3 weeks for a business trip in two climates, you might ask? Well I did it, and proudly boarded the plane with a carry-on and briefcase, with a pair of boots and all the sweaters, coats, sandals and light blouses one could possibly cram into them. It was a fait’ accompli to be sure. Smiling at the stewardess, I boarded the plane in San Diego headed for Atlanta where I would catch the international flight. At the cockpit she said, “We’re very full with overhead carry-on for this flight, I will need to take your suitcase here, and you can pick it up on the ramp in Atlanta.I didn’t have a choice, but that was my first mistake.

In Atlanta, I was told my suitcase had been taken to the ticket desk because the plane to Kazakhstan had been cancelled. After much wrangling with the airlines, they told me to “run like the wind”, to another terminal, they would reroute me but I would get there. I told them my suitcase drama and they made a quick phone call and said “we’ll get it on the London flight for you, no worries”.  I “ran like the wind” and seriously out of breath, boarded the plane to London just as they closed the gate. My suitcase of course, headed for Amsterdam.

In London, no suitcase, and a 12 hour layover convinced me I should buy a bit of makeup and maybe a sweater. Now you may not know, but Heathrow airport has some of the most expensive shops on the planet next to Paris or Las Vegas, so I opted for makeup and chocolate and headed for the lost luggage counter. The nice man with an oh-so-British accent ASSURED me that my suitcase was logged and tracked in the computer, and would be loaded on my next flights to Kazakhstan—no worries, it would be there with me. I decided at that point there was little I could do to affect the outcome, so I ate the chocolate.

Later…after way too much time in the airport, I boarded the plane and chased the chocolate with red wine, and settled in for a flight nap. Of course, a “flight nap” is different than a regular nap, and requires at least one glass of red wine, half an Ambien, and is only complete if you have a sharp pain in your neck and shoulders and cramps in your legs when you wake up. The pilot announced we were landing and the temperature outside was -30 degrees. That was minus 30. Passengers began to shift and stir and I noticed everyone getting out down coats, scarves and hats, pulling boots out of their carryon, and getting ready to disembark the plane. My coat was stuffed in my rogue bag in the outside pocket, ready for grabbing as needed…so all I had was what I had on—a fleece vest, cargo travel pants, socks (thankfully!) and luckily, a pair of boots that happened to be packed in my over-stuffed computer bag, so I put them on and pretended to be warm.

The plane landed in a field of snow and we climbed down a ramp and walked 200 feet through snow and ice into the terminal. It was 3AM, and the scene was surreal, and my ungloved hands froze to the handle on my computer case. This was a plane change layover—and the terminal wasn’t heated! I opted for coffee this time, burnt my mouth and spilled it all over my shirt while shivering, and stood in a corner out of the icy breeze shifting from one foot to the other in a sort of dance to stay warm. No one was in the lost luggage office at that frozen hour so I watched people, and had an acute attack of coat envy….there were beautiful long down coats, furred collars and hoods, sweeping full length furs with mittens and muffs and hats, and I coveted them all shivering in my corner with hands cupped around a rapidly cooling cup of very bad coffee. When they called to board the final flight to our destination city in northern Kazakhstan, I had expended all my energy shivering and was all too ready for a shower and a shopping trip to buy a coat, hat and gloves!

Next time I’ll finish the story…my rogue suitcase had a mind of its own, and this was just the first 36 hours! In the meantime, if you happen to be in the Almaty, Kazakhstan Airport Terminal, I recommend NOT trying the coffee, go for the hot chocolate instead.  And hopefully it won’t be 3AM and minus 30!

And if you want a great coat recommendation, send me a note at bsumwalt@pacbell.net. I’ve seen them all!

Cheers, Beverly Sumwalt

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