If forced to chose a theme song for my last trip, I would probably go for: “The Time They Kept Feeling Me Up and Sending My Luggage to Alaska”. If no country singer has thought that one up yet, well, someone ought to.
After each flight — and I do mean EACH of the many flights I had to take — I would waste a good 30 minutes at the baggage carousel only to end up at the airline counter. In most cases, the airline sent my reliable red Samsonite oyster-shell to my hotel the next day — just when I thought I had to make my presentation in the same clothes I wore from my trip across the Pacific. At one point, my luggage came back smelling like curry. My sister and I scrubbed, Lysol-ed and Febreze-d the damn thing — but to no avail. Sadly, I had to travel the rest of the way with luggage smelling like BO.
At each (again, I do mean EACH) leg of my trip, I was also taken aside for “random” security check. The folks at TSA had a really bad crush on me. At each entry point, they felt me up and swabbed my stuff down with what looked like a towelette-on-a-wand. To TSA’s credit though, their procedures made sense to me — nothing compared to Metro Manila malls where entrance security go through one’s purse with nothing but a wooden stick ala Hogwart’s School of Security.
I should be thankful I’ve never suffered the indignity of being detained. But then again, I’m still young …