August 26, 2009: As I Walk Nakedly Forth

As the world’s most unlucky traveler (think lost luggage, switched luggage, bomb threats, airplane breakdowns and the list goes on), it’s no surprise that my trip to Indonesia got off to a rocky start.

Disaster 1: When Nate, Dad, and I eventually get out of our cars (Nate and Dad took separate cars), I go to gather my luggage, only to find that we had forgotten to load the most important bag—the one containing all of my dress clothes—back at the College Inn. I had a bag full of exercise clothes and warm weather gear (Smartwool, fleece, jeans) for the occasional trip up a volcano. But nothing to teach in, meet embassy officials in, be a professional in. Not even a T-shirt. I asked calmly, “What does one do in a situation like this?” In answer, Nate said, “Give me your key, I'll go get your bag.” Back he went to Amherst—a location that should take 30 minutes to reach, but, because of traffic, takes an hour. We were 2 and a half hours early, so all seemed OK.

Dad went to park the car.

I approached the desk to explain my situation, and the bald man behind the counter said that Nate had to get me my bag at least a half hour before the flight left—an impossible feat if anyone knows traffic in the Pioneer Valley. I asked him what my options were, and he told me to wait while he checked me in.

Disaster 2: for some reason, to fly to Indonesia, one must have a return flight, regardless of whether one has already been issued a visa by both countries involved. No number for Tommy, no answer at the ELF office. They tell me I have to purchase a return ticket—one way. Dad returns. I say no way. Ashleigh, another ELF flying from BDL shows up and we get Tommy's, our ELF travel agent’s, number. Tommy, after much haggling, issues us a dummy ticket so we can print boarding passes. It's 35 minutes before the flight.

Still no Nate. He's hurrying towards us, but we all know he won't make it.

The people behind the American Airlines counter refuse to give me any options other than boarding with my bag of inessentials. Just send it via mail, they say, smirking a bit at my troubles. I ask if there's another flight that will get me to L.A. Nothing but standby, they say. Dad capitulates and says he'll send the bag of clothes.

It's three minutes until they stop allowing checked bags. No Nate. I go to the front desk to get my printed boarding pass, leaving my modest sized carry-ons with Dad. One woman behind the desk says snidely, after I prepare to check my inessential bag, “Make sure your carry-ons fit in that bin.” I heave my big bag up and foot it back across the room to grab my carry-ons, which anyone could see were modest-sized. Back I go to TSA. Of course my carry-ons fit. She just wanted to see me squirm. I asked her, “Why are you so mean?” to which she replied, “Do you know how long you've been here?” I replied, “Yes” and walked away from all of my clothes and unfriendly East coast airlines...