Not Exactly A Seamless Trip

(Ft. Lauderdale, FL) - I have met an angel disguised as an islandic overnight clerk at a hotel in south Florida. More on that in a moment.
The good news: I have arrived in suburban Miami for my Big Super Bowl Adventure. Getting here wasn't easy. Being here hasn't been a picnic so far.
I don't want to say my frustrations are all Delta Airlines' fault, but they're all Delta Airlines' fault. Knowing this was a weekender (although a remarkable one), I just brought a carry-on bag. (Or, as they call them these days, a "roll-aboard." For a year or so, I wondered why flight attendants were talking about "roller boards," but that's another story.) The plane I was on for the first leg of the trip was packed and the flight attendants determined their was no room for my roll-aboard, among many others. At least three people in Delta uniforms assured me that my bag had been checked all the way to Miami. When I got to Miami, my bag was not there. After standing in line for an hour at the baggage problem office, it was determined that my bag was in Atlanta.
What's in my bag? All of my clothes, my Garmin, my camera, my phone charger, my Kindle charger, you name it. It was my carry-on. It had everything in it.
So, in a strange city I can't navigate and I can't call anybody because my phone is dead. I'm also running several hours behind. (Not Delta's fault mostly, because of severe weather.) The fact that flights were delayed all over the southeast makes the lost bag even more inexcusable.
I found a phone charger at a gas station and found my way to the hotel, where I encountered the angelic, islandic all-night clerk. She heard my tale of woe: "All I have is the clothes on my back, and to be honest with you my feet stink. I can't wear these socks, or frankly this udnerwear, another day." I asked her if there is a Wal-Mart or a Target or something nearby so I can buy socks and underwear and maybe a pair of khakis. She said, islandicly "It is too far away. I will take care of this for you." She offered to launder my clothes for me. I kept my jeans, a tee shirt and my shoes. I turned over the objectionable items to her on faith.
At this writing, I don't have my clothes back yet. Hey, wait a minute! What if she's not an angel at all? What if she's a polo shirt thief?
Thank God I kept my pants.

Sphere: Related Content