Luggage is like a child; the minute you take your eyes off it, it disappears. Which is why I almost always do carry-on. I want to know where my little guy is.
So yesterday it was Los Angeles to Miami. Three hour layover. Miami to St. Maarten. Ten minute taxi ride to a nearby lagoon dock where we wait for a small boat to take us to Blowing Point Ferry Port in Anguilla. And through the whole journey I’m like, “Somebody please hold hands with my luggage so it doesn’t get lost while I use the restroom. DO NOT LET IT OUT OF YOUR SIGHT!”
I watch my little blue bag get transferred from the taxi at St. Maarten to the guy who puts a “CAP JULUCA” tag on it and wheels it down the dock to our boat. And then when we get to Anguilla, of course, my luggage is no where to be found.
I’m frantic. The people who operate the ferry service are frantic. There are more walkie-talkies blaring at each other than at a Secret Service confab. And then up strolls Mr. Glennis Connor, operations manager for Bennies Travel & Tours in Anguilla.
“I’ll get it,” says Glennis. And while half a dozen ferry reps run around the dock looking under tarps and interviewing bag handlers, Glennis disappears behind the office. Not two minutes later, he returns dragging my rather-sheepish looking carry-on behind him.
“That’s it! Where’d you find it?”
“It was on the other ferry boat which makes more stops than this one. But they all end up here. I figured it would be on that boat.”
And it was. Mr. Glennis Connor: Anguilla’s Patron Saint of Lost Luggage.
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