Arriving In Tobago To Find My Luggage Missing

lost luggage 300x257 Arriving In Tobago To Find My Luggage Missing

Delayed for 3 hours and finally lift off. The plane soared and I willed my body to a state of unfeeling (MY state of unfeeling as I rarely dream, which would be some kind of feeling) called sleep. And will it I did to forget the bone penetrating cold air that was working its way to my core.


A cheap ticket… no blanket, certainly worth the trade off but I cursed myself for allowing myself to suffer in this way by not bringing my own blanket.


A 10 hour flight. More or less fully booked and I managed to get a whole row of 4 seats to myself. I cannot believe my luck and added to that no one on a full row comes and tries to unlawfully claim a seat (as I would have most definitely have done if I was on a full row and had seen 3 free seats.)


I have 4 cushions. 3 propping me up against an arm rest and one which I have used as a feet warmer by inserting my feet into it’s case. All I need now is some brandy and coffee (cream too if possible, the thickest kind) and I’ll be living the life of Riley. (If anyone knows, who Riley is please let me know as I’d love to meet him)





I almost peed myself because I did not want to use the toilet on the plane. A man once managed to open a “locked” plane toilet door whilst my naked ass was hovering over the toilet bowl which is why I have been scarred. I held out for about 5 hours after drinking two brandy and cokes and a litre of water (I know I have a weak bladder, most people would have been able to hold more).


When I finally gave in I entered the toilet and started to undo the zip to my jeans. It was then that some heavy turbulence began. Just my fuckin luck! As the first drop of pee hit the water in the bowl I heard the announcement,




The turbulence grew worse and I tried to force the wee out as hard as was humanly possible, so that I could return to my seat. My anxious mind was filled with the image of me in a plane wreck. With no bottom half on, knickers around knees… so not the look.


I made it to my seat fully clothed. I couldn’t spread out as I was before because an air hostess came around to make sure that everyone was wearing seat belts. I have always wondered, what is the point of seat belts on planes? It isn’t like a car crash where you can be saved. If a plane is gonna drop out of the skies… your days are finished. POINT BLANK. You will NOT pass GO… you will not collect 200. So I personally do not see the point of making myself uncomfortable for no good reason.




I arrive in Tobago, tired and sweaty.


I stand by the luggage conveyor belt. I expect to see my case pronto as I am one of the last to arrive at the baggage claim bit. It is not to be. The conveyor belt is moving but with nothing on it. However it is not long before the luggage does arrive.





Green and Black


5 minutes



Navy Blue


Black with a red ribbon



10 minutes


The colours blur into one… mine nowhere to be seen.


20 minutes




There are about 10 others in the same position. We stand around not quite sure what is happening. One of the guys who was loading the baggage appears and puts his index finger up, and announces that there is one more batch to arrive.


The batch never comes. I become anxious. Only six months ago I was left destitute with no luggage of 10 days. could this be a recurring nightmare?


I hope not.


The same guy reappears to announce to shake his head,


“No more!”


There is in fact no other batch. That is it. I want to cry but even tears cannot express what I feel. I am pissed beyond belief. Why the hell me? the guy disappears leaving us luggageless folk searching each others faces for answers. there are a few of us but no airport staff approach us. I track one of them down and ask her what to do. She tells me that I need to pass through customs and then make my way to the Xcel ticket desk to make a claim.




I reach the Xcel check in desk. No one is there. I stand waiting, and waiting, and waiting. I see the woman who directed me there walk past. She is not even heading my way but I approach her and she has no choice but to follow me back to the counter. When we reach there she tries to fobb me off onto a male colleague. He does not want to deal with any lost luggage issues and so makes a quick getaway. She has no choice no but to deal with me and so pulls out a lost luggage claim form and we begin to fill it in


When I tell he my name she stops writing down my details,


“Your bag is there. I remember the name.”


I am suspicious. This could be one of her tactics could get rid of me. From behind me come two English men who are the ones who apparently accidentally made off with my bag and then returned it. They see my baggage claim sticker and exclaim,


“Yes that is it 224… It’s opposite the conveyor belt”


I make my way back to the luggage hall and there is my suitcase in its full black and dusty glory.


I am so happy.




Outside the airport I stand and smoke just grateful that I have my bag. A man approaches me about a cab after I have ignored many others. He has a kind face and so I listen. He is the airport taxi guy. He has a badge to prove it too. He advises me not to use the ATM machine that I was about to use as it “rarely works” and directs me to another one. I withdraw money and he takes me to the guy that is going to take me to my accommodation. As I go to get in the car the driver asks me if I mind if he finishes off his fish dinner. I tell him that I don’t mind and then ask him if I cam smoke. He says he doesn’t mind so I smoke and he eats. when he is finished and ready to go he pulls out a quart bottle of rum and takes a swig.


Oh Lawd!


I say nothing and we get moving. What should have taken less than 5 minutes takes more than 15 as the driver gets lost. He ends up picking up an elderly man from the side on the road to take us there.




It is dark when I arrive and no one seems to be about. As I approach the door I see a face emerge at the window in the door. I find out that the girl’s name is Grace and she is from England, in Tobago for 6 weeks on a diving course. She tells me that the housekeeper is not around but she was told that I was arriving and that my key is in a flowerpot “by the gate.” Only problem is that flowerpots in abundance are around the gate and entire courtyard area. She knows as well as I do where the key is.


We find the key within ten minutes and I get to go to my room, shower and dress. I come back out, not knowing quite was I am going to do but head to the front door nonetheless. As I step outside darkness engulfs me and going out by myself in the dark seems like a bad idea so I go back up to my room.


I had seen some East Asian boys around the door opposite me so I knock the door to find out a place to eat. A white girl answers the door. She too is from England and here alone. she is into diving too (these bloody divers can’t get way from them.) She invites me to a Richie Spice concert that she is going to. I tell her to knock my door when she is ready. I knock myself out within minutes of sitting on the bed and the knock never comes.

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