“I hate it when my bag takes so long to come out, it makes me panic that it’s lost!”, I jokingly said to Mum at Naples airport. The conveyor belt went round and round and I still did not lose faith, believing losing luggage was one of those things you hear about but never actually happens to you. Even when the belt stopped I still thought my case would turn up. Dad began poking his head through where the luggage comes out thinking maybe it had fallen off but his efforts were to no avail. Feeling a bit panicky I still thought deep down that I would be leaving, suitcase in hand. We spoke to the attendant who was just about to leave for the night and Dad tried his best at Italian by sticking -ia on the end of every word. In broken English, the attendant quickly tried to see where my bag was but my luck was not in and he filed a report.
I was tired and fed up. In a very girly tantrum I wailed about everything that was lost; my loyal sandals that were falling apart but I was too attached to throw them out, my new bikinis, endless sun dresses, I could go on. The attendant, eager to get home, assured me that it would no doubt be found the following morning and be delivered to me in the afternoon. Reluctantly we left the airport and headed to our hotel in the city.
I was given a link to keep checking on the status of my suitcase and I obsessively looked, multiple times a day. Dad rang and rang but each time we got an apology, saying that unfortunately my case still has not been located.
After a while I gave up. I bought a few essentials in Italy and planned to restock when I was home and had the time to shop around.
The day before we left, Dad got a call. “Hello Mr Freeland, we are pleased to inform you that your case has been located here in London, would you like us to fly it out to you?” What a stupid question. We would be gone by the time it arrived. Of course it was a relief. I only wish that I had bought more clothes in Italy as we were able to claim back all the money we spent!
Nonetheless it was a fantastic holiday. It really taught me to stop being a whiny girl and appreciate the experience, who cares if you’re wearing your Mums clothes?