Returning from a relaxing vacation, I stand watching everyone’s baggage revolve around me waiting for mine to appear. No one talks to each other lest human interaction occur even though we’ve just shared a two-hour flight. I can tell from the bags who’s been on vacation, business, wedding or funeral. Two hundred of them and as many stories to match.
I see my distinctive bag and grab it. The next day I open the bag and discover a purse on top of clothes. Funny, I don’t remember buying or having a purse. Instantly, I think that TSA played a joke on me but then thought what’s the point. “It’s not my bag,” as I stare at unfamiliar stuff all bunched together. (I would gladly give her packing tips, it’s not that difficult.)
My staring must have been ten seconds with ten thoughts. “How stupid?” “How could I?” “I have a distinctive bag!” (“Are these clothes my size?” I jest.)
The purse-less woman’s name is on the handle and I call her in Madison, 90 miles from Milwaukee. I leave a message and she calls back shortly and now two strangers begin an awkward chat while possessing what each other wishes to possess. We both sound foolish even though we both did the same thing.
She tells me she bought the bag because it was “distinctive.” I’m vowing now to not use that word often in the future. We’re very nice to each other since we possess what is not our possession. I suggest UPS that day and she agrees to do the same. Hers’ is 25 lbs. and costs $28.00 which I thought would have been more. I would have paid more since she has want I’d like back and I’m sure she’s missing her purse.
I treat her bag like it contains sacred treasures since it’s not mine. She’s welcomed to launder my stuff, nothing hidden in there. Two lives were present at the baggage-moving circle, both confident of their distinctive-looking bags, grabbing them and returning home. If this were a movie we’d meet, get married and travel the world with our now matching bags while you all enjoyed your popcorn at this serdiptious meeting.
It didn’t happen and I hope she UPS’s as I did and I’m glad I put my name on my supposedly distinctive bag. (I’ve got to stop using that word!)