Bag It by G. Hamlin O’Kelley

I cannot say enough good things about Delta Airlines. They get a lot of flack, but they did right by us on all levels on our recent trip cross the pond to see our Godfamily and for my wife and daughters to visit Harry’s House at Wembley Stadium

On the way there, a storm across the Northeast meant we would miss our connection to Heathrow.

Well, thanks to one Jean-Louis in Charleston, he had us on a later flight to Gatwick. Great thinking, and “Merci, Jean-Louis”

After a lovely time in London, it was time to board the flights back to the US.

Upon arrival in New York, we huddled with the other yearning masses at JFK in Jamaica, Queens.

“Anything to declare?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m glad to be back in the States”

“Welcome home, Sir”

USA! USA! USA!

Upon arrival from international flights at JFK, one must pull one’s luggage and give it back to the Delta baggage folks

Let’s just say, I think Rick and Sam had less chaos as they fled Paris in Casablanca.

Twas a bit of a zoo

We found our checked luggage and were hurried and harried to get our bags to the Delta baggage folks across the terminal

In an effort to improve all efficiencies, the baggage folks were grabbing and shoving and moving the bags along

As part of that tide of humanity, we tossed and handed and rolled our bags along, too, including my rolling hard plastic cased gray with green tag carry on bag. Without a Delta luggage tag

I didn’t notice that the bag was gone until after we had gone back through security

“Where’s my carry on?” I asked my family

“Where’d you have it? Did you have it at Customs? Did you give to to the baggage folks?”came their questions in reply

“I know I had it through Customs”

Seeing my frustration and confusion, a TSA Agent came over to me and asked what was the problem. He would end up being my best friend: Travis. His family had moved Nawth in the 1920s from Georgia.

Well, Travis took pity on me and said he’d cut through all kinds of lines with me and take me back to the baggage drop off on the other side of security.

It’s amazing what a badge and a uniform can do to part seas of humanity

“Step aside. Step aside”

Wink wink

Nod nod

So, back I went to the baggage folks who said they didn’t remember my bag

Why not? Aren’t you memorizing the thousands of pieces of luggage?

“Are you kidding me, Sir?” asked the capable baggage handler

“Looka here [insert Queens Flatbush accent,]” he said further. “No Delta tag, it ain’t getting on the plane. But, this happens all the time. There’s a lost and found form on line and Delta will call you if you have a tag on it with your name on it”

Feeling dumb, I thanked them and then relied on Travis to get me back through security

“Let’s face it, man, you’re not exactly the terrorist profile”

Feeling dumber still, I popped into the first bar I saw and had a double.

My family assured me the bag would turn up

As we were boarding the plane, sure enough, Delta baggage at JFK called and advised they had my bag, could I identify it, did I have a picture.

Yes, yes, yes

“We can’t get it on this flight, but when you get to Charleston, go to baggage and they will be waiting for you to get it on a flight tomorrow”

So, I did as told

The lovely lady at baggage claim in Charleston said they were waiting for me and needed some identification so they could put the bag on the next flight in the morning

“Will my passport work?”

“Yes, Sir”

Apparently, Delta really was ready when I was!

By noon the next day my errant luggage awaited in the Delta baggage office in Charleston

Keep climbing, Delta

I love the way you fly, and return lost items to jet lagged fools

G. Hamlin O’Kelley is an RCS contributor and a fine gentleman.  We’re lucky to have his work grace our pages.

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2 Comments

  1. whiskeydent
    08/16/2023 / 4:22 PM

    I think I’m familiar with how you felt. One night back in 1997, I was standing in line to get a boarding pass at an Air Zimbabwe gate in the Lusaka, Zambia airport. This being third world Africa, the airport’s power was flickering on and off ever couple of minutes. The Black airport workers were unfazed by the alternating light and darkness. This pasty-faced, red-headed Texan was very fazed.

    After about 20 minutes of lights flashing on and off, I finally was next. That’s when I discovered that the gate agent in Victoria Falls had torn out my ticket to Gatwick. My legs started wobbling as I approached the counter. The agent immediately frowned as she saw the missing stub. But before I could start begging the power crashed and we were plunged into darkness again. When the lights returned, she hit a couple buttons on her computer, looked over my ticket book, and handed me my boarding pass. She smiled when I said, “Thank you ma’am!”

  2. nachdrock
    08/17/2023 / 4:09 PM

    ahh yes the flatbush section of queens….

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