May 6 13

I am freshly back from the Mom 2.0 Summit in Laguna Niguel (also known as yet another place that is more beautiful than the place in which I live) feeling recharged and renewed and excited about diving headfirst into my newest professional project which is tentatively titled: GETTING WHAT YOU WANT ALIMARTELL.

But, of course, before I share those stories and photos, because I am ME, I have to share a ridiculous story with you first. Of course I do.

I own this suitcase.

It’s not pretty, it’s not me, it’s not special. It is, however, what one would call unique. It’s grey and bright orange and blue. There was reason for this, of course. If you have a suitcase that no one else has, it’s really easy to spot in the airport. I’m not an excellent flyer, really. I am not squeamish about air travel in general, as in, I’m not worried about turbulence or crashing into large mountains or possible water landings (I mean, haven’t you seen the safety instructions—water landing are full of fun slides and smiles—totally not scary at all!) but sometimes I suffer from a wee bit of claustrophobia and an even more wee bit of vomit-phobia. So, sitting in the middle seat is kind of my own special nightmare.

All of this is to say that once I get off the the airplane, let the Nexus booth take a snapshot of my eyes (please step back a little), all I want to do is escape from the airport as quickly as possible. So, you can see why having an all-black suitcase may prolong the time spent in the baggage claim area, yes? That’s why I have one that’s BRIGHT! and different and odd-ly shaped and weird.

Last night I was tired. It was almost 10pm and I had been traveling almost all day, including a 4-hour flight from SNA where I had to sit in between a chatty Cathy and a man who picked his nose with abandon and ate a homemade stinky sandwich. I just wanted to get home. I grabbed my bag and booked it straight to the passenger pick-up zone.

When I am almost home, I get the call. “Oh hi, Mrs. Martell, we have your suitcase here in the United terminal. You took the wrong one. Can you please come back to the airport for a hasty switcheroo?”

Yes. YES.

I left the airport with someone else’s bag.

Not mine. Not the blue and orange and grey bag that was filled with 7 different branded water bottles and notes written on The Ritz paper and my pretty, pretty dresses. Nope. Not mine. Someone else has this ridiculous bag.

WHAT ARE THE CHANCES, you might ask?

Well, when you are me, the chances are high. Because everything ridiculous happens to me.

So, a hasty switcheroo on my part was in order.

But, replace “on my part” with “on my saint of a husband’s part.”

And replace “hasty” with “incredibly time-consuming.”

The lesson learned here is this:

No matter how hard I try, I am not that unique.

I don’t know why I didn’t already know this.

twins!

Tip of the day: Always check your luggage tag before heading home.

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  1. Oh my.

    But seriously, WHY does all the crazy stuff happen to you? It’s bizarre.

    And I love that picture of you and Whitney. Adorable.

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    I mentioned this in my panel…it’s how I have been able to blog several times a week for almost 10 years straight. Everything ridiculous happens to me!

    [Reply]

    Comment by Meghan on May 6, 2013
  2. My dad grabbed the wrong green duffle bags once, and was unpacking at my house when he realized it was someone elses. Gah what a pain in the ass to fix it.

    But really? Orange, grey and blue? How does that happen? Oh my.

    ps. Your dress is super cute! Love it, on both of you ;-)

    [Reply]

    Comment by monstergirlee on May 6, 2013
  3. If all the ridiculous things happen to you, they won’t happen to me. That’s how the world works, right? Not that I necessarily WANT them to happen to you, but if it’s between you and me, I vote you.

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    so, I’m taking one — or 50 — for the team here I guess?

    Endless blog fodder is the upside, it seems.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] on May 6, 2013
  4. I did this once, but the other person took mine too. Maybe as payback? My brother had to do the switcheroo, but not until the next day since he worked out by the airport.

    I have yet to live this down. So now I have an obnoxious luggage tag and am so weird about checking it.

    At least you didn’t rifle through a stranger’s bag like I did, because I was like “THIS IS NOT MINE! WHERE IS MY STUFF?”

    [Reply]

    Comment by Kristabella on May 6, 2013
  5. Also I’m dying that there is a kitty litter ad on your site right now!

    [Reply]

    Comment by Kristabella on May 6, 2013
  6. Dress Analogy!!

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    I will now use it for everything in my life ever.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Heather on May 6, 2013
  7. Oh my…picking the nostrils…gah.
    Someone clearly stole your bag. Yes, let’s roll with that.

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    I pretty sure it was *I* whole stole the bag. Heh.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Kimberly on May 6, 2013
  8. Oh my word,that is just too hilarious. I love that photo. Priceless.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Jen Wilson on May 6, 2013
  9. Crazy stuff DOES always happen to you. Meeting your twin was pretty awesome, though.

    Miss you!

    xo

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    I miss you too, lady. SO MUCH.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Angella on May 6, 2013
  10. I still can’t believe this happened! Can’t wait for more Mom 2.0 posts, lovely. And see you in Georgia! (And, of course, sooner than that!)

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    Ticket is bought, yo.

    Probably going to bring the whole family down too.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Loukia on May 6, 2013
  11. [...] My husband was off dealing with a wee bag kerfuffle. [...]

    Pingback by That Time I Got to Be Kelly Ripa. A May Tale. | Cheaper Than Therapy on May 7, 2013
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