It’s just stuff…until it isn’t.

by Christine | Observations

This is a long tale, one that has consumed me for 19 days.

Let me explain. The last full weekend in July, I went to Mystic South in Atlanta, Georgia. I had a wonderful time and will blog about that at a later date…my mind has been completely focused on what I left behind when I got to the airport.

Specifically, the black and gray bag pictured in front. The one carrying my thoughts, future learning, scent, snacks, charging abilities, memories. (Shout out to Scruffy Dog Trading Company for a marvelous travel/all around bag.)

I didn’t realize I’d left my trusty bag in the Uber that had taken me to the airport on July 28th until I was through security. That’s when I started to panic. Mind you, I had my ID and credit cards and cash on me, in a type of travel wallet around my neck, which is why I didn’t notice my bag being elsewhere before I got through security. Immediately I hit up Uber, asking to connect with my driver. Eventually we did, I couldn’t go back to the front as I didn’t want to miss my plane, so I offered him $100 to mail my bag to me in California. He agreed, gave me his phone number.

I had to buy a new charging cord for my phone for the plane, since my phone would now be my sole companion on the flight.

I jumped through hoops in the next couple of days, as we texted back and forth, working on a solution. Tried to up his tip to $100; it didn’t take. Tried CashApp; my bank doesn’t like that app so that was a no go. My bank doesn’t like Apple Pay, either. He tried to download Venmo; that didn’t work. I FINALLY hit upon the solution of sending him a Visa gift card for $100, which he could use anywhere for anything. Then he said he needed to take it somewhere he could cash it out.

Okay. Whatever.

That was Wednesday, July 31st. He said he’d put it in the mail that day, and then poof – nothing. I tried texting him Wednesday afternoon, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and nothing. He never read my texts, whereas earlier he’d been timely on reading them and responding. I could only figure that he blocked my phone number. Then he blocked me on social media (because yeah, I checked for him – I could see he HAD a profile, but I couldn’t access it). The thought crossed my mind that he wouldn’t mail my bag back to me.

I started thinking about all the stuff in my bag. My copy of The Witch’s Path, by Thorn Mooney who I finally got to meet in person at Mystic South. She’d written something inside when I had her autograph it, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to read what she’d written.

The notebook where I had notes from the second half of Mystic South. Thoughts, feelings, doodles.

A perfume from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab – it was one of their limited time only, 3-note scents. Smelled like a delicious, dark caramel. There was less than a third of the bottle left, and it’s gone from their website. Irreplaceable.

Those snacks I had packed, so I could eat something relatively healthy on the plane, and M&Ms to counter the healthy. My Inkjoy pens, my favorites for doodling ever. My airpods. All my charging cords – phone, watch, my power bank – all these were easily replaceable, and yet…

By Monday, August 5, I’d had it. Reached back out to Uber. Told them what happened. Sent screen shots of our phone conversations. They basically said they’d talk to the driver and see if there was a mutual time and place for us to meet so he could get my bag to me, and to give it a couple hours. If I don’t hear from them or him, to contact them again. I told them I was in CALIFORNIA and he was in ATLANTA, so that wouldn’t work. I kept that window open so it would be easily seen in its entirety by anyone new who came along.

I waited. Nothing. I waited 4 hours. Still nothing. Finally reached out, saying I hadn’t heard anything. They got back to me, said they were trying to reach him but he must be driving. But to give it to the end of the week, then reach back out.

On Thursday the 8th, I reached out again, and this time when they tried to walk me through directions to be put in contact with the driver by their system, I had to explain (again) that he’d blocked my number. I’d paid him $100 to mail my bag back to me, and he’d blocked my number the same day (July 31). I received crickets back.

By Friday August 9, I was certain I’d never see my bag again and I mourned the contents. Early that morning, I ordered a new bag exactly the same; Amazon had it delivered to me by 5pm. My life pocket was back, just new and without my stuff. It felt way too light, but at least I had a semblance of normal and wasn’t carrying my wallet and keys around in a small canvas bag from Romance Authors Mastermind.

At 6pm August 9, I received communications from Uber that began, “Christine we are so sorry this has happened.” They were going to call the driver in and talk to him 1 on 1, and they refunded my trip cost from the hotel to the airport (about $30). At 8:35 pm Friday, I received a text from the driver, who said he would mail my bag Saturday morning. I thanked him.

On Saturday, about 11am, I received a text – just a photo of the receipt from the USPS, stating delivery should be Wednesday the 14th. I thanked him again.

I tracked that package like crazy, and when it finally did arrive yesterday the 15th, I had to track it down to the second floor because he put suite 3 not 300 and fine – I got it.

My bag. I cried a little, happy tears, when I realized it was all there. M&Ms, perfume, airpods, Thorn Mooney’s book, bags of nuts, pens, charging cords, power bank, notebook with workshop notes…it was all there. Nineteen days of uncertainty. Nineteen days of wondering if I’d been a big fool for trusting someone to do the right thing. Nineteen days of unwavering hope.

That bag became, to me, a symbol of trust. I trusted the driver to get it to me, untouched. I trusted my instincts when I paid him that money (he made a $70 tip off it, as it was just around $30 to ship it to me). I trusted Uber to believe me, and back me up (which they finally did). To have it in my hands once more was a validation of that trust.

My first knee jerk reaction, when I realized I didn’t have it with me, was eh, it’s just stuff and it’s all replaceable. Well most of it. Then I remembered Thorn’s inscription. The perfume. My airpods. In the air, I reached for that bag time and again only to realize I couldn’t doodle, I couldn’t read Thorn’s book, I couldn’t snack. I couldn’t listen to a meditation. An instant of inattention, of rushing when I needed to go slow, was the cause of me missing the fact that my black bag was left behind on the floor in the black interior of a white Kia.

I have had to learn the hard way that not everyone can be trusted. But even though it took nineteen long days, I am so glad that this time, my instincts to trust were rewarded.

(P.S. This is a good book by a wonderful person.)

That’s all for now, my friends. Sending you love, always.

–Christine