So we got to the airport in Cancun and de-planed. Following a long line of fellow passengers down a hot, humid, muggy hallway to who-knows-where. Down the escalator, into a big room with the long serpentine conveyor that eventually began disgorging luggage from our flight. Fellow travelers began to pick their belongings off the carousel, and wander off in the direction of the arrow that pointed to ground transportation. My group was plucking their bags off the carousel, I was watching for the two huge pieces I had checked that were full of supplies and T-shirts to be donated to the congregation in Playa. I dragged them off, and started looking for my little innocuous, plain, black canvas personal bag. Huh? Where is it? Donde? What? 'My bag's not here!' Impossible to locate in the plethora of plain black canvas zippered bags, so I assumed someone else had picked it up off the conveyor belt. We checked claim numbers against all our varied pieces, and they all came out even... What? Where is my toothbrush, clean underwear, shorts with a dozen pockets? Necessary Prescriptions? Socks? Snacks? Chocolate!!!!
I learned A LOT about traveling through this experience. Mostly what to NOT do.
Mistake number uno: There was absolutely nothing on the outside of my handy, convenient, little wheeled suitcase that had any connection whatsoever with Me. So I know now to put lots of identifying marks, duct tape in loud colors, baggage tags with name and contact info., ribbons, yarn pom-poms on luggage before it rolls out the door of the house.
so then what...????
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