Salmon Run

Last Friday, I flew back to town. It was a bad day to fly for the following reasons:

1. It was Friday. There are always people traveling on the weekend.
2. The Red Sox and Yankees were playing. That series always brings people to Boston.
3. It was the last weekday of Spring Break for Massachusetts' schools.

I forgot all of this and headed to the airport to try and catch an earlier flight. No dice. I did not even make it to the counter. The woman that was directing people told me that I shouldn't bother trying because everything sold out last week. I spent a couple of hours waiting for a delayed flight.

Finally, we the plane landed and I went to get my luggage at 10:45 pm. I figured the airport should not be too crowded that late. Not true. I went to the claim area and it was packed. I didn't know why. I noticed that only one belt was working. I passed the airline's customer service desk and 150 pieces of luggage were in front of it, if not more. The area by the luggage belt also was packed. Why would it be that full? Then I noticed that there were 5 rows of at least 40 pieces of luggage in between the luggage belt's curved track.

There I was with my favorite 300—400 pieces of luggage and 80 of my closest friends. I swam against the current of baggage and flesh on the lookout for one small suitcase. I waited.

The belt turned, started and stopped but my luggage was not to be found. I walked the rows of luggage looking. Thirty minutes went by and our flight disappeared from the baggage claim board but no one from the flight had their luggage.

The first message came after forty-five minutes. Our luggage would arrive soon. The belt started and we pushed closer. Nothing. It stopped and started again. We edged closer stil. Nothing. One more stop and start before our luggage came. I grabbed my small suitcase and went to find the car exactly 55 minutes after I strolled off my plane and down the concourse.

I could now make it home.