Crossing the Pond
I’m writing this from the back of a taxi. Frantically typing while traditional Arab music drones on the background and my taxi driver interjects with Arabic words he thinks I should know. All the while trying not to be crushed by my luggage.
I find airplanes so amazing. They seem to defy the laws of gravity as I’m transported across an ocean and forward in time. How is this possible?
What I find even more miraculous, however, is that yet again I’ve defied Murphy’s law and received all my bags. This never ceases to amaze me. How, amidst the thousands of bags did mine make it here? And this with a layover! What I find even more interesting is that I travel much more often internationally and yet the only times my bag has ever not been on that glorious conveyor belt ready for me to take to my destination was in the US. And yet after forging through the copious halls of various airports throughout the world, I find myself whispering earnest prayers under by breath that all my luggage arrived with me as I wait, my eyes fixed on that hopeful opening for my grey bags with the tags with a giant “C” in bright pink to appear. When one flies across the ocean, those bags are worth far more than any excess baggage fee. Why, they’re filled with chocolate chips, vitamins and Sudafed! These are irreplaceable treasures found thrown haphazardly on a shelf at heavenly stores like Target.
And then I make a small jump for joy and send up a grateful thank you as I count and determine that yet again all my belongings are safely in my possession.