Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Baggage. Ballpark Pretzels and Broad Street.

Part 3 of 4. I know I said 3 parts, but geez, some times I run long. I talk a lot. Imagine that.

The continuing saga:

My husband takes off with our son to back track through the airport in hopes of finding the lost bunny. I go to stand in the whereismybagpleasetellmeyouhaveit line.

Before anyone says JACK: “You should know better and carry on your essentials” I DID. I carried on my son’s. I am a Mom. His stuff outranks mine. PERIOD. So thanks, but no thanks, for all the unsolicited advice and scolding I received.

I was soon ushered into a closet office by agent “A” I know her name, saw it on the nametag. But I refuse to throw someone under the bus. The monotone “Name”, “Address” questions were asked of me. I said out loud (mind you calmly) trying to wrap my head around a lost bag that had 2 hours to get from Plane A to Plane B, my husband and son’s bags made it, why didn’t mine? I said to A “I know you had nothing to do with this, I am just tired, but I don’t understand why my bag didn’t make it and that there is no tracking information on my bag?”

A gives me the “talk to the hand” body position and eyes wide “Honey, your energy is like whoa. You were not discriminated against. Your bag was one of 100 lost today. We don’t have a computer system that can tell us where your bag is.” * Insert scratching record sound here * Breathe. If I am number 100, 99 before me have probably ripped her a new one. Not her fault. I hear my son behind me bawling over his lost bunny.   I will not fall apart I will not fall apart I will not fall apart….tears in 3…2…1….

I got dizzy; my hearing went into a tunnel. What did she say about my energy? My bag was one of many lost today? Was I told to talk to the hand? I had mentally prepared for “I am sorry for the inconvenience” or “we’ll try to locate your bag” um…anything other than “Honey, your energy is like…whoa ”. A, honey, it’s called taper.

I stood there. In shock as a piece of paper was shoved in my face. “If we find your bag we’ll call you”. I have known a lot of people who have had lost bags on other airlines, including myself. They were given bare minimum toiletry kit to get them through the night and typically some sort of apology for inconvenience. I was given a piece of paper and a “do not call us, we’ll call you”. No apology just a gettheheckoutofmyface.

I try to be positive in social media. I do. There are enough “oh boo hoo’s” out there. I was exhausted and frustrated and said something on Facebook and Twitter.

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Well…my Twitter family (especially Mug and CinCin) came out guns blazing to my rescue. So much so a Southwest employee out of Dallas, TX saw the activity and contacted me. He took ownership of my lost bag. Wow. This is the Southwest I know, but geez…he is in TX???? Not even remotely close. But he took it, and ran with it.   I heard from no one locally. The only communication I had was from my new Twitter buddy. Thank you @SouthwestRob.

Luckily we were staying with family, I was able to sponge off them to have enough to be able to take a shower and snag some of my niece’s clothes to sleep in.   I started putting Plan B together in my head for race day. I had my IRC shirt I was wearing and most importantly my shoes. I would need GenUCAN, shorts, a sweatband and socks. I sent a quick text to a friend.   “You do realize if my bag is not found, I will be racing…. in pink.”   For anyone who knows me, they know that my message was met with maniacal laughter. I don’t “do” pink. I like it on other people, love when a bada$$ athlete wears it, but you know, me personally, not so much.

A quick trip to Target, a local running store (YAY for GenUCAN), and the expo, I collected the bare minimum to get me through to race day. Many thanks to my brother and sister in law Bill and Lisa who served as my taxi and nieces Jennifer and Jessica who loaned me their shirts, sweatshirts and PJ’s.

Thank you local teammates Neeli and Kristin who were giving me addresses and locations to find GenUCAN and offering to bring things to me. A huge thank you to Fairmont Running Company for giving me the local running club’s discount.   The running community is something else, a great big huge supportive family. Group hug.

My phone rang around 7pm. My bag had been found and was out for delivery, estimated arrival 10pm.   A humorous text conversation with a highly caffeinated delivery guy by the name of PJ, my bag was delivered, safe and sound shortly after midnight.

TYRBAG

I collapsed face first on the bed, and slept, like a rock.  I want my pretzel.

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