"Great," I grumble to the customer service clerk at the airport. "Just absolutely fabulous." Lost luggage is the last thing I need right after a rough 16 hour flight to Chicago, much less lost $600 Burberry luggage.
"I'm sorry," the clerk apologizes, looking at me through sympathetic eyes, "but there's not much we can do at the moment. We will get your luggage to you as soon as it's found, but until then you're just going to have to make do." I'm so furious I could strangle him. Of course, it's not this poor man's fault my luggage is lost, and I might be overreacting just a tad, but I can't help it. This jet lag is really getting to me; I practically turn into the Hulk after any flight longer than 8 hours. Adding lost luggage to the equation doesn't make it any better.
"Thanks for the help," I mutter to him sarcastically, and turn around and storm away.
'I just need to find my mother so I can go back to the house and have a long, cozy nap in my old fluffy bed,' I think to myself. As if she's read my mind, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I see it glowing with her name when I take it out of my pocket.
"Hi Mom, I'm just about to come look for you. The stupid airline lost-" I'm interrupted by the usually sweet sound of my mother's voice, which is now frantic and apologetic. She's telling me she won't be able to make it to the airport to pick me up, so I'll have to take a taxi.
'Of course. As if lost luggage isn't enough, now I have to stand out in the pouring rain to hail a taxi.'
"Okay, see you soon," I sigh, shutting the phone and slipping it into my carry-on. I pull myself together and prepare myself for the monster that is the weather outside, wishing I had an umbrella.
'God,' I mutter in my head. 'Could this day get any worse?'
"I'm sorry," the clerk apologizes, looking at me through sympathetic eyes, "but there's not much we can do at the moment. We will get your luggage to you as soon as it's found, but until then you're just going to have to make do." I'm so furious I could strangle him. Of course, it's not this poor man's fault my luggage is lost, and I might be overreacting just a tad, but I can't help it. This jet lag is really getting to me; I practically turn into the Hulk after any flight longer than 8 hours. Adding lost luggage to the equation doesn't make it any better.
"Thanks for the help," I mutter to him sarcastically, and turn around and storm away.
'I just need to find my mother so I can go back to the house and have a long, cozy nap in my old fluffy bed,' I think to myself. As if she's read my mind, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I see it glowing with her name when I take it out of my pocket.
"Hi Mom, I'm just about to come look for you. The stupid airline lost-" I'm interrupted by the usually sweet sound of my mother's voice, which is now frantic and apologetic. She's telling me she won't be able to make it to the airport to pick me up, so I'll have to take a taxi.
'Of course. As if lost luggage isn't enough, now I have to stand out in the pouring rain to hail a taxi.'
"Okay, see you soon," I sigh, shutting the phone and slipping it into my carry-on. I pull myself together and prepare myself for the monster that is the weather outside, wishing I had an umbrella.
'God,' I mutter in my head. 'Could this day get any worse?'
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