So we gave up, went out to get on the van with what the Delta people would let us have, anxious and sad over what apparently never got onto the flight and wondering how long it would take a security guy to pick it up, send it back through an x-ray machine and root around in my clean underwear. Completely annoyed at myself when I realized that there was nothing on the handle, outside that anyone could use to connect the bag to the rightful owner. Already thinking, trying to remember the name of that town in northeast Alabama where I have read that all unclaimed luggage eventually lands to be auctioned off. And irritated to have a swim suit I searched for and found that I really liked - thinking about some strange person in Alabama enjoying it tubing down a muddy river holding onto the cooler with the iced beer.
Extremely irritated at myself when I realized I could only identify the bag by telling whoever was holding it hostage that it had a pair of green-striped flip-flops in there (I'd had to buy when I found myself flip-flop-less in Biloxi) Not very much info. to give some great big burly TSA guy, who would be looking through my personal possessions. Everyone going to Mexico would have shorts, t-shirts, swimsuit, the usual vacation accoutrements for life in the steamy tropics.
So while our main source of support in the States pestered the Delta people in Tampa, and I fretted over my missing clothing, my delightful, charming roommate got busy offering me necessary articles. She had a black skirt (we were instructed to be prepared to wear below-knee skirts or dresses to church) and personal items. I knew I could buy toothbrush/paste, but profoundly frustrated to have to shop for necessities that I already owned, just could not find. And I didn't want to spend my travel funds on those necessities... but not at all prepared to go without the most basic of personal furnishings and be 'airish' all week.
Our calm, patient sponsor/leader/religious resource assured me we could go to a nearby department store and get whatever was needed - and I am sure he was completely right - it's just that I didn' t want to invest in replacements. But went anyway, and bought a couple of things. Amazed to discover that one can buy most any sort of pharmaceutical on the street corner. Not literally, but there are 'pharamacias' often on three corners out of four at any given intersection. The problem being I was not sure about how to translate the dosage to metrics (me, being the hopelessly arithmetically inept). So I bought something that I was extremely dubious about, along with an over the counter item that seemed pretty safe. But I was so leery about the OTC meds, that require an Rx in the US, I could not make myself actually ingest it, for fear it was massively wrong doseage, being either 'way to much, or not nearly enough and just overly anxious about taking it.
We muddled on. Got food on Saturday night, and I went to bed wearing my clothes.
Got up Sunday morning - and I guess I never brushed me teeth. Ick. Put on the borrowed skirt and stuff I had tossed and turned in all night, and went off to Hispanic church.
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