The joys of airline travel....

Ok, in about one month minus 1 day, I am officially not getting on another airplane for another 10 years. Just kidding. When I start getting homesick around the holidays, I will be rethinking that sentiment, but until then....

*** As a disclaimer, let me add that there is a good chance that if your name is Heather Klenow, you will hate me after reading this story. Please don't hate me!! I meant no harm! As you read this story, Heather, just keep in mind that it eventually has a happy ending, and let that soothe the guaranteed anger you will justifiably be feeling towards my insurmountable stupidity!!! ***

So let me tell you the spectacle I made of myself at the San Francisco airport earlier this evening.

I had finally landed in California after yet another miserable day of flying the unfriendly skies (which, by the way, started off with Scott having to pull over on Alcoa Highway on the way to the airport in Knoxville so I could vomit out the side of the car. The gods were warning me...) and was waiting at the baggage carousel for my two pieces of checked luggage. Waiting waiting waiting. Finally, about 30 minutes later and after all but two other passengers had come and gone, I received one of my bags. The one with souvenirs for my family from Japan and nothing else. I kept waiting for my larger, slightly more important, piece of luggage -- the one with all my clothes, shoes, personal items, phone charger ... and Heather's eb clarinet. Despite a voice in my head telling me that I should try to carry the instrument on board with me, I instead decided to pack the clarinet in my suitcase (very carefully, Heather! Very carefully!!) so I wouldn't be given any grief by the airline for having too many carry-ons. Anyway, when the carousel stopped moving, I believe I went into a sort of shock/panic thinking of all the scenarios that might have happened. Did someone take my luggage by mistake? On purpose?? Did the airline lose my luggage??!! I headed over to the parcel services counter where there were seriously like 7 other passengers from my flight asking about luggage that never came. I was last to get in line since, while the others were calmly making the steps to retrieve their lost luggage, I was still standing by the unmoving carousel staring into space with unblinking eyes while I may or may not have peed in my pants a little. In line at the counter, I started to think of all the things I would have to do to make up to Heather the fact that I had just lost her virtually brand-new wonderful eb clarinet which she had been so generous to let me borrow. My eyes began to well up thinking about how much I would miss my kidneys and left leg after I had sold them on the black market for the money to replace the instrument. As I neared my turn at the counter, Scott called and -- as he tried to tell me that this sort of thing happens all the time and that I would get my luggage back -- I started crying right there in front of the American Airlines (grrrr.... GRRRRR!!!!!) employees and passengers. I got off the phone with Scott in just enough time to talk to the woman at the counter. I attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes in an attempt to persuade everyone there that I had indeed not just been blubbering like a baby about some stupid lost piece of luggage. It obviously had not worked, however, since the woman at the counter looked at me like I was a crazy person and the guy being helped next to me kept giving me worried (puzzled? amused?!) sideways glances. I managed to gather my composure eventually, until the woman asked me for three things inside the suitcase that would make it easily identifiable as mine, and I lost it all over again as I tried to explain that there was an expensive instrument inside. I believe it went something like this: "There's an e-f-f-flat c-clarinet... Like a clar-ar-arinet only s-s-s-sm-smaller... Um-um-ummm... It's inside a black -- no no no, I m-m-ean brown -- like rectangular case. And the c-c-clarinet is ins-s-s-side the c-case..." Seriously. Eventually, after I finished blubbering the woman at the counter told me that the luggage would be delivered to me within 24 hours at my parents' house in Santa Rosa. Which presented a whole new set of problems because in exactly 24 hours I had to be checked in at the Bear Valley music festival, 4 hours away from Santa Rosa, where I would be playing said clarinet. As I was walking away to catch the bus to Santa Rosa, I asked the woman at the counter if she could tell me where exactly my bag was at the moment, whereupon I was told, "Oh, it's probably in Chicago..." In the words of a former musicology professor: Fie on you, American Airlines!!

Anyway, long story short, I called the airline twice later to check on the status of my luggage, but was continually told that my bag had not come in on any of the incoming flights from Chicago and they were still waiting for it to arrive. At this point I went upstairs to my bedroom, curled up into a fetal position and drifted off into a state of blissful denial-laced hibernation.

And theeeeen: dun-da-da-DUN!!! My mommy knocked on the door asking if I wanted her to check with the airline one more time, at which point I, of course, still being a 12-year old child inside, said yes. 10 minutes later or so she came back to tell me that the luggage had FINALLY been located and that it would be delivered by 2 or 3 this morning (PST). Huzzah!!! I can keep my body parts after all! And I can go to Bear Valley without fear of being fired for not having an eb clarinet for Shostakovich 5!! And Heather doesn't have to fully hate me after all!! Although, of course, Heather, you should hate me just a little for putting your instrument under such peril. I will bring back glorious organic goodies from Northern California to buy back your friendship.

Lesson #1: American Airlines sucks. They make you pay $400 for a ticket on a crummy plane with no in-flight movie -- and then make you pay another $3 on the plane in order to receive your "snack," which is essentially a small cardboard box in which they put a tiny package of chips and salsa, cheese dip, sausage and cookies. I think not!! My super fancy personally made trail mix from Fresh Market will serve me just fine, thanks.

Lesson #2: Any competent musician knows this: Do not check your instruments in if you can help it in any way shape or form. Always carry it on with you! What was I thinking? I've never done this before. Gah. Stupid momentary brain fart. More like brain diarrhea. Never again!!

Lesson #3: Although it cannot be helped many times -- especially when you're as surprisingly emotionally fragile as I can be at times (blah) -- crying in public (about a clarinet, for Christ's sake!) is a surefire way of getting people to look at you strangely. No matter how ultra-chic you may look in your leather kitten-heeled sandals and fantastic gold woven top purchased in Tokyo, Japan.


PS. I'm still working on that photo-journal of our trip to Tokyo. It's quite a painstaking process.

Not really. I've just been incredibly lazy this week. Get off my case.