south of the border, part (6), as I have used all my spanish numbers

At some point the following afternoon, our calm, patient, resourceful spiritual advisor made the blessed discovery that my MIA suitcase magically appeared in the back of one of the vans. Halleluiah! If you  want to see the face of a Happy Camper, you need to see the photos of me when I was told what was lost had been found. I am pretty sure I did the 'happy dance' right there in the dusty Mexican streets, with Hispanic on-lookers backing away... and likely thinking: 'those crazy gringos!'

You do realize that the mysteriously missing/reappearing suitcase was claimed at the carousel, and languishing in the van all this time: it didn't belong to 'anyone' in particular.Therefore: Everyone assumed it was just sort of 'generic' and another of the bags that had been packed full of give-aways (which I am still thankful they did not actually give away) that the Ocala congregation had collected to donate to the members of the Playa congregation.

So all is joy. Do you want to know what happened? Me too.

It seems that my plain little black canvas roller-bag was passed along to a couple who only had one piece of luggage between them. My anonymous piece got 'checked' with the other baggage to go on as cargo, when I had intended it would be my 'carry-on' after I checked in the huge, weighty bag full of 100+ used T-shirts. I was the last person in the check-in line in Tampa, and gave not a thought to what had happened to my own personal stuff. Stupidly, completely oblivious to the possibility that I would get to Mexico with nothing but a beach towel to wear all week. And no toothbrush.

I do not yet fully comprehend how I could be so careless as to let the bag get away from me with not the first sign of a luggage tag for identification. I did at some point console myself with the thought that the TSA guys, if they did not deliver it to the bomb squad for detonation, would find Rx bottles with my name on them. And in the unlikely event they would want to make an effort to track down the owner of the prescriptions, would find me in Mexico, wearing my beach towel. And needless to say: there are now numerous tags on that same suitcase that would help it find it's way back home.

When I got my toothbrush, clean underwear and stash of chocolate back, it became a much better experience than I would have (not) had otherwise...