Excerpt: The Friend Zone

My luggage was lost. Hopelessly, irretrievably lost. I stood at the Delta counter, impatiently drumming my fingers on the faux-granite and waited for the plump Hispanic lady on the other side to tell me what I already knew.

“They went to Barbados,” she said, as if having your luggage sent to a foreign country you had no intention of visiting was perfectly reasonable.

“When will they be back from Barbados?” I asked, trying to minimize my irritation. I knew this snafu was not her fault, but her attitude certainly wasn’t helping.

“The problem is that your bags had to go through customs there. The customs officials didn’t like something you had so everything is in quarantine for thirty days.”

“A month??” I tried not to shout. But the vague presence of a smirk on…Maria’s…face made it nearly impossible. I knew yelling would not get my lost luggage here any sooner, so I changed tacks. With a deep breath, I said, “Okay, fine. Will someone notify me when my luggage returns to Los Angeles?” Maria nodded. “Great. And to whom should I speak now to find out how I will be compensated for this?”

“The supervisor on duty,” she said, and I saw the definite twist of a smirk on her lips.

“Great,” I said. “Where’s the supervisor, then?”

“I am the supervisor.”

The words hung on the air like the smell of cattle on a foggy morning. Fabulous.

“Look, Maria, I’m sure you’ll agree that I have been very reasonable and calm up to this point.” Maria nodded once, as if only agreeing to appease me. “I have never even been to Barbados. I am on my way home from Namibia where I have spent the last three weeks. I’m leaving on another trip in a week or two—I travel for my job, you see—and I need my clothes and all of my travel things.”

Maria just stood there, not saying a word.

“Listen, I know this isn’t your fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. So surely your fair airline will be willing to provide me with something so that I can replace what was lost until it comes back? I mean, my suitcase alone cost $500.”

Maria’s smirk definitely deepened. I was quite sure I hadn’t imagined it. Then she reached under the counter and retrieved a plastic bag with the Delta logo on the side, and a piece of paper, sliding them across the counter to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, mildly curious.

“This is a toiletry kit and a $200 voucher to use on any Delta flight you like. Someone will notify you when your luggage returns to the United States. Have a nice day.”

I slumped away from the counter feeling defeated and glanced at my watch. My flight landed two hours ago and I was still in the airport. I wandered out to the curb, turned on my cell phone and called the shuttle company to claim my ride home to Newport.

The dispatcher told me twenty minutes, but half an hour later I still sat on a bench under the All Shuttles sign, only my trusty backpack in one hand, and the Delta toiletry kit in the other. This was not how today was supposed to go.