Fear of Flying

Ever since I lived in Manhattan I've had a travel phobia, and I just can't shake it.
I'm not afraid of the plane going down (driving in Bergen County, New Jersey cured me of that when I realize that I stood a 100% better chance of dying on Route 4 than of a plane going down). I'm not afraid of motor mouth/loud guy sitting next to me.....

Nope, I'm afraid of the dreaded "suitcase" failure. This happened to my roommate, who, after her suitcase arrived with a split zipper, had the rare privilege of picking each piece of clothing one-by-one from the conveyor belt. She ended up crawling up the baggage chute to claim her panties and a wayward shoe that didn't drop down to the carousel. The horror of this story (complete with leering business men and a crabby Newark Police Officer) has scared and scarred me.

Anyway, last night in the Nasty, it started with one boot. It was a nice boot--most likely a Salomon or a Sorel. It was all alone on that baggage claim. It looked lonely without its mate. Next it was a thong. A Red lacy thong nestled between two black bags. Then it was a Nike running shoe and a long-sleeved t-shirt. People started talking....the half-empty bag, zipper-popped rolled by, followed by some flannel pjs and a make-up kit.

I never did figure out who owned the bag, but judging by the contents, she wasn't very old. I hope this little incident doesn't have any long term ill effects.