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Way too much Dulles.

Monday, 7:35 A.M.: Still no bag. Finally heard from the delivery service (who inexplicably called Dave's number -- while he was in the shower, so we missed the call -- why did they not call my number, which was listed first?). After acting briefly like they'd never heard of me, they told me to expect the bag between 10am and 2pm today. I have been hoping to make my 1pm masters swim. If I am not here when they arrive, I don't think I will ever see my bag again. Also, my workout suit and goggles are in that bag. I do have others... somewhere. What did I do to deserve this?

Sunday, 10:36 P.M.: I have been awake for 20 hours now. Where is my damn bag? Can't... stay... awake... much... longer...

Not Aruba.

Saturday we woke up and we were still in Virginia. Damn.

We found our way back to the airport, looked in vain for our luggage, made another request to have it plucked from the airport's underbelly, rented a car and made off in search of warmer clothing.

We found a mall and bought me jeans, clean underwear and a fleece jacket. These things made the 30-ish temps a little more bearable. San Franciscans should get a good chuckle out of this. Tourists who visit our fair and foggy city in the summer generally expect warm California weather, and the souvenir vendors at Fisherman's Wharf do a brisk business in cheap fleece pullovers with "SF" or various Alcatraz jokes embroidered on them. The only thing embroidered on my new jacket is a Columbia logo, and I got it on sale, thank god.

We went back to the airport, hoping finally to reunite with our stuff. No such luck.

We ate dinner at the charming Ice House Cafe, which may be the one redeeming feature of our unplanned trip extension. Had a couple of Yuenglings at a pub that was serving green beer and too much U2. Slept. Returned to the airport this morning. Checked with our friends at the luggage desk again. They told us our bags were waiting for us in San Francisco. We breathed a sigh of relief.

We flew home, picked over the offerings at the SFO baggage lockers, and found only Dave's bag. Mine was definitely not there. We made new friends at the baggage office.

Supposedly my bag will be delivered to our apartment by 12:30 tonight. It has been about 60 hours since I last saw it. I'm a little worried about the wet swimsuit I packed just before we left, after I took a final swim Friday morning. Will it be rotting and mildewed? Will my supposedly security-approved lock have been cut by the TSA? Will my brand-new snorkel gear, wedged precariously into the bag, still be there? And what about my iPod Shuffle, which I decided not to carry on because the battery was dead? (Like it takes up so much space? What was I thinking?)

The suspense is killing me. But at least I'm home.

March 18, 2007 9:47 PM