Security issues or deodorant, which is more important?
The luggage carousel in Columbia International Airport was working just fine. The luggage system was not. Around and around the luggage spun. Slowly and efficiently the people retrieved their luggage and left until there was just one bag, left. There was also one other person left. He was looking at that last piece of luggage, which was ugly, and no one would want anyone to see them claim it. I went to look down the shut of the carousel, as if my luggage would miraculously appear. But no luggage miracles today. The baggage claim office was busy so I stepped quickly in line. The young man looked at my claim ticket, compared it to his computer screen, printed out a sheet of brown recycled paper from the printer, tore it off and handed it to me. I looked at it studiously, thinking I would feel much better with something more official than a torn off piece of brown recycled paper with the type so faded it was giving me a headache.
"Now what." I asked.
"It's all right there." He said pointing to the paper, "the phone numbers and the tracking number and the claim number and the procedure, it is all right there -- next."
I walked back out to the carousel area reading my brown recycled paper. It was all right there, but not at all comforting.
"Mr. McConnell?" It was my ride, my host for the weekend, Dr. Osterlund, no light weight. A professor at Columbia with a stack of credentials, and a warm handshake.
"How was your flight Mr. McConnell?" He said.
"Just Mac, please, it was uneventful until now, luggage lost." I said.
This is no small matter for most, but for me it could ruin the whole weekend, because without luggage, I am without work.
I typically check my bags due to size constraints, but often smile at the prospect of them being searched to find my biblical garb, make up kit, fake beard and the accouterments of my profession, relishing the perplexed looks. I'm an actor. A biblical actor. "A one-man passion play" a Miami Hearld critic penned in a review of my most ambitious drama, "The Gospel According to Simon (St.) Peter." I use Simon most of the time and Saint for the Catholic and Episcopal churches. Of course, loosing luggage with costumes is a, not very well suppressed fear. At first I had a quiet confidence upon arriving in Columbia, until becoming the last one staring at the near empty baggage carousel. The last bag was a dead ringer to be owned by Freddy the Freeloader.
Honestly, I wasn't all that surprised having barely made connections with a delay out of Ft. Lauderdale due to the annual Air and Sea Show extravaganza.
I couldn't help but think, as we sat on the runway before the trip waiting and watching the touch - n - goes of the scheduled Blue Angels, of two things:
1. Since the Blue Angels were scheduled months in advance, how had this caught Delta, and air traffic control off guard?
2. Only a miracle would guarantee my connection.
No real sweat, there were surely other flights, and my performance wasn't today. Then weather forced a holding pattern at Atlanta. No connection for sure. That's when where is your faith echoed in my ear. To that I reply, "not in Delta, or the banking system, or the weather, or in anything that is not completely in my control -- and yes, of course in my God! Did that sound defensive? Probably. Truth is that question usually springs up when someone wants to challenge someone else's faith.
Well, I do shoot up a prayer to make my connection, just in case. As it turns out, most flights in Atlanta were also delayed, and with two whole minutes to spare I plopped in my usual seat, 10C, first row behind first class on the isle. Almost first class, but without the big bucks. Works for me, you know, it's a ministry thing. But upon arrival, did I forget to pray for the luggage to make the flight? Yep. Quiet contentment gave way to quiet concern by 7:00 PM as the computerized voice nonchalantly proclaimed, "your luggage has not been located at this time." Not been located? Not good news. Now quiet concern became not so quiet frustration. There began a haunting thought of no costume as a lame excuse for canceling a performance, and a plan B was non-existent. Oh well, my host served dinner with stimulating conversation offering sufficient distraction to the problem. After all, it was early.
Back at the hotel another call to the highlighted number on my torn, brown recycled lost baggage claim, thinking -- now that I was alone, -- "I would be happier with something a little more official in my hand than a half sheet of torn, brown recycled paper." I punched in my tracking number and the computerized voice again unassured me, 'your luggage has not been located at this time.'
"Quiet frustration was now audible, and mostly likely heard next door. I determinedly punched 0 believing that a real live person might answer; she did.
"May I help you?"
Duh was my first thought, then Yeah! My luggage is missing, I'm a performer, this is my living, my ministry, it's a God thing! But, what came out was, "Yes, thank you very much, I was hoping to gain some information about my lost luggage."
"Of course Mr. McConnell I'll be happy to help you with that." This was a welcomed relief. She knew my name. I'm in the system. Excellent. I heard keys clicking, and prepared for the desired answer forthwith (a little King James language for flavor.)
"Mr. McConnell, I don't show the location of your luggage at this time."
I paused for effect, or was I simply dumbfounded.
"I don't understand, no location." I assumed with all the 911 security measures, and that matched-luggage-to-passenger thing, that luggage was always locatable.
"Well Mr. McConnell Atlanta doesn't scan luggage for connecting flights."
All manner of things zip through my thinking -- Atlanta doesn't scan? Huge security risk, my luggage could be on the way to San Fran, no show tomorrow. Hey, what about my meds, clean underwear, toothbrush, deodorant? All very legitimate concerns. So, I says, "Really? You really don't have any idea where my luggage will be, or if it will ever get to Columbia?"
"Mr. McConnell," this lady is good, very polite, not a hint of agitation, perfect for this job. "there are five more flights coming to Columbia tonight, two have already arrive, and most likely your luggage is already there, and simply has not been scanned. If you could call back in thirty to forty minutes we should have more information at that time."
More information at that time would not be a stretch from we have no information on your luggage. Frustration was becoming more like indignation, all the while praying determinedly and convincingly, that luggage would arrive before 2:00 AM. Another dramatic pause from me, then,
"Thank you." Click. Pretty innovative.
Calmness now Mac let's be reasonable, this is not the end of the world, only a minor test, a little inconvenience, think of some scriptures, like ... I couldn't remember any scriptures close to lost luggage. Lost souls maybe, but not luggage. Wait. How 'bout that lost sheep thing? I remember the question well; "would not a man with a hundred sheep, losing one, leave the 99 and seek the one lost." Yeah, that's it! Leave all that found luggage and go find mine! Just as this escaped my lips, the phone rang. Could it be? Had the luggage indeed miraculously materialized downstairs? This must be the front desk with that expected proclamation. Wrong.
"Mr. McConnell, this is Bridget with Delta claims, we have just received notice that your luggage has been scanned in Columbia, is on the truck to your hotel, and should arrive in twenty to thirty minutes."
Never a doubt! My alter ego Simon is showing. Well that was at 9:00 PM. I popped my corn and relaxed to a Sean Conery flick, back when he had hair, or a very good make up artist. By 10:00 some queasiness returned. What if that info was bogus? What if that was not my luggage at all. Mine could still be on the way to California.
Ring! Ah, the call.
"Mr. McConnell, Delta just dropped your luggage at the front desk."
It was a long drop from the 5th floor. But, upon exiting the elevator and turning the corner, there it was. Like I said, never a doubt. OK, a little.
Mac McConnell sold an award winning art gallery to form BibleActor.com devoting full time to scripting and performing one-man Biblical dramas. He gained a world flying speed record and received his black belt in TaeKwon-Do at age 60. His first historical novel, "Forever Changed" is now out on the life of Zacchaeus. http://www.BibleActor.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment