My backpack got tagged by Ryanair during boarding, but once on the shuttle bus, I ripped the sticker off in defiance.
I immediately regretted it. What if I got caught and sent to airport prison?
Always the goody two-shoes, I reapplied the florescent label to my bag. But it wasn't as sticky this time. Now I was worried the tag would actually fall off in a tussle with the other excommunicated suitcases down below. What now? What kind of mess had I gotten myself into?
At the last minute, Andy convinced me to just take the tag off. Screw it! We went out of our way to pack light and bring only carry-on luggage. Who were they to make us wait at baggage claim with all the bad, heavy packers?
So I ripped it off again, lowered my eyes and boarded the plain as nonchalantly as possible.
Of course the overhead compartments were stuffed to the brim. I ended up having to squish the ginormous backpack under my seat. Never would I have thought that was possible until I watched myself do it (grunting and all) with my own eyes.
I'd done it! Take that Ryanair!
After landing, we breezed through passport control, walked right past those baggage claim losers and sat our efficient arses down in a comfy Edinburgh taxi.
We walked through the door about 20 minutes ago. It took me about three minutes to realise I'd left the camera on the plane. Our beautiful digital SLR. Full of snaps from Italy. It's squished under the seat and probably on its way to Shannon, Dusseldorf, Brussels Charleroi, Oslo Rygge or some other middle of nowhere D-list airport Ryanair flies to.
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| Me collapsing on my bag in exhaustion and defeat after realising the camera was not with us. Note: this photo is a reenactment. |
Now for the good news. We're back at Edinburgh airport tomorrow to catch a flight down south to visit Andy's brother. Surely we'll stroll up to the lost luggage counter, say "One lost camera, please" and they'll hand it right over to us. I'm sure it will be that simple. I'm absolutely sure of it!
Love,
Margaret
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