It Ain’t Easy Leaving

I just returned from a girls trip, where gifts were exchanged.  My trip came with gift bags.  GIFT BAGS!!  Love those ladies.

I was the last to arrive in New Orleans, so I planned to carry on my bag to save the fee, and the time when I got there.  But I was a little worried that I’d have trouble cramming it into an overhead bin because it was pretty packed.  Luckily for me, I was forced to gate check it because there was no more room on the plane. But then I was thinking that if it got lost, I wouldn’t even know the luggage brand name.  It didn’t have a luggage tag, and I could barely describe it.  So when I opened my GIFT BAG and there was a ribbon on one of my gifts, it was tied to my luggage immediately.

This story skips straight to the flight home, it skips all the fun and hilarity that transpired in the Crescent City.   But, as my good friend says, it’s not easy leaving the Big Easy.  For example, we saw a guy laying face down on the carpet in the gate area for my flight.  My friend’s laughed and said he would probably be sitting next to me on the plane.    I walked around, and when I returned in time to board, I noticed that the drunken traveler had risen to a seated position and purchased a beer.  His party wasn’t over and good for him.  (Fingers crossed that he wasn’t sitting next to me on the flight.)

I bought a few souvenirs and a few dresses, and I received some gifts. (GIFT BAGS!)  And I may have taken some hotel samples.  So my bag was a lot little bigger and heavier on the way home, and I wasn’t saved by a gate check.   So when it came time to put the bag in the overhead bin, I heaved it up and over, and almost into the overhead bin.  Almost.  I somehow missed a little, and the bag sort of bounced off my head, and partially knocked my glasses off my face.  I did the quick glance around to see if anyone noticed.   Just about 10 people were staring right at me.  The drunk guy gave me a sheepish grin that said, “How embarrassing for you, sorry.”  This, from someone who had been face down on the floor just 2o minutes prior.  The young gentleman behind me said, “Do you want me to get that for you?”  I replied, “Actually, I think I’d like to try one more and redeem myself.”  Heave, ho, in ya go.  Well, it was sort of in.  Should I turn it sideways, or will it fit the way I had it?  Wiggle, jiggle, not sure what to do now.  At this point, a helpful flight attendant stepped in and  put my bag back the way I had it the first time, with the bow side out.  I said, “I wasn’t sure it would fit that way, but you are the expert, right?”  He said, “Not really.”  And he tried shutting the bin and it shut just fine.  I said, “Oh, don’t be so modest!  Great job!  Thanks so much!”  I noticed he was sitting in the exit row, and I thought he had just lucked out that the place wasn’t full and was flying standby to get to Denver or something.

I sat down and read my book for 2 hours and 2o minutes.  When it was time to get off the plane, I stood up and I was trying to figure out a strategy to get my bag down.  Just go for it?  Let the people in my row out, and then wait it out until everyone else is off the plane to save myself the embarrassment?  What to do, what to do?  Someone ahead of me opened the bin, and I saw the pretty ribbon on my bag.  I looked at the helpful flight attendant and noticed he was looking into the bin too.  He saw the ribbon and I willed him to think, “that’s the bag I put up there for that clutzy lady.  I should get it down for her and save us all.”  That worked!  Next thing I knew, he was handing me the bag.  I thanked him again, and wondered why he said he wasn’t an expert at putting luggage into bins.   Maybe because he wasn’t a flight attendant?  He was a pilot.

How embarrassing for me!

 

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