It All Started With a Stolen Purse

This July, I am searching for a flight to visit my daughter in Maine and I can’t help but reflect on the events that took place last July. I am sure that you will find it hard to believe but, it started with a stolen purse…

Thursday, July 24th:

Green Volvo parked in front of the house. A quiet court surrounded by the homes of working-class people; regular folk. The purse was inside as usual but, the doors? Unlocked-not usual. I was inside making my final preparations before the trip to Maine. I was so excited about visiting my daughter at camp. It was parents’ weekend and this would have been my first time going to see her since she started attending the 7 week-long program. I was only inside for about an hour and a half. I spoke with my brother, sat at the table and nibbled on some grub, said my goodbyes to my two sons and walked outside. The car door was wide open! What?! It couldn’t be. The purse was gone. Stolen right from in front of my house. I had a laptop, a check book and a few other valuables but, none of those things were missing; just the purse. Gone.

So, two hours before the flight leaving for Maine, I asked myself what to do first? File a police report? Or cancel the bank card? Call the hotel and car rental to inquire of possibility of usage without license and bank card? Or scramble to find my passport? It was all important and it all had to be done but, wait! Looking at the computer screen, I see a charge on the bank card at a local restaurant. I had to go see if the criminals were still there!

I jumped in the car and drove as fast I legally could! I had to find out who charged the $16 for some tacos. I spent time talking to the cashier. She pulled up the receipt and told me what the perpetrator looked like. They had gotten away and I had to catch a flight. I raced back to the house. I searched for the passport. I called the police, who, by the way, told me to file a report “online”. Can you believe it?!

Anyway, after filing the report online, I called the car rental company. The young man who answered the phone told me that I would not be able to rent the car without a license nor credit card.

Arrived at the airport; time to spare:

“Flight reservation number, identification and credit card please.”

“It was just stolen ma’am.”

“Well don’t you have a credit card?”

“It was just stolen- my purse with everything in it and I needed to get to Maine to see my daughter for parents’ weekend at camp. Here is my passport and the confirmation number.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to find you. Are you sure that this is your name?”

“Yes. The reservation was made with the same name that you see on the passport.”

20 minutes later …

“Oh! Here you are. Unfortunately, the gate is about to close and there is no way that you will make it. Sorry.”

Sorry?! What the f*@k!?! Are you sorry that I got to you on time and that you could not find my name on a ticket and that my purse was stolen and that I am now missing an entire day at camp with my daughter? Really?

I sat on the floor of the airport. I began to cry. I called my cousin, who could not talk or listen to me tell her what had just happened and I cried even more. Why is it that when you need someone (in time of crisis) no one is available? So there I sat, in public, crying. I was trying to remember another time in my life that I had ever felt so sad, so frustrated, and so thoroughly disappointed. I had no recollection of such a time. How does an act of selfishness so devastated ones entire world in a matter of hours? Emotions like a flood crashed over me into one big tidal wave of hurt.

It was the end of my summer. My daughter was expecting me. My first time in Maine. Wanted to relax, get away; spend time with her. Ouch. So there I was left thinking; forget the trip or go on? Go on of course!

Friday, July 25th:

Morning flight- 10:50am arriving late night but, what the hell; better late than never. And late it was:

1. Flight left late
2. Flight in holding pattern for an hour due to lightening storm
3. Flight arrived to connecting city over two hours late
4. Missed connecting flight to final destination
5. No connection until…tomorrow! Tomorrow!? TOMORROW?!?
6. Spent the night in the Philadelphia airport

I was now stuck in the “City of Brotherly Love” but, I was not feeling any love. My back was aching from the stiff bench. My eyes were red from the fluorescent lights. And I was completely worn out. At that point, my mind was thinking, “I should have forgotten about the trip. I should have just stayed home. Too many obstacles.” This trip was beginning to remind me of Sudan in 2007 (another story). I was definitely not feeling any love. No love for the thief who stole my purse! No love for the delayed flight! No love for the hard bench that I had to camp out on! Where was the love?

Saturday, July 26th:

In the morning, after waking to the call for the flight to Portland, I had finally found that love but it came with along with more frustration. First off, the flight was full and I was to wait for another flight later that afternoon. Second, the flight that I was supposed to take me into Maine was late. Lastly, I was tired, without a toothbrush and had not showered for two days. Yuck! But! But, there was a very nice woman who had decided to show me some love. She placed me on that late flight and had also given me something to brush my teeth with so as not to hurt her feelings. Finally! I was in the air and flying to see my daughter.

Portland, Maine; beautiful, quiet, and green. Oh, and lots of mosquitoes. But, I was not complaining because I had made it! And you knew that there would be one of these…BUT! But, no bag! My luggage did not arrive with me! No clean clothes…SHIT! I was told that it would arrive later that evening. And on top of that my period had started! I mean truly unbelievable...it’s why I am writing it down. I then had to be driven to Walmart to buy some underwear, clothes, and pads. Then I was driven to see my daughter. At that point, I had decided not to worry; at least I was going to see my baby girl and have a good time.

And I had a great time. I spent the day with my Shammai. I was able to watch her do a little bit of horseback riding; we shopped in North Conway, New Hampshire and we ate really good pizza with other kids from camp. After being put up in a hotel for the night, I took a walk down the road and found a really nice local restaurant. I enjoyed my time with a wonderful couple and shared a couple of good handcrafted micro brews. And when I arrived at the hotel later that evening, there was still no bag.

So, that evening, I lay quiet. I tried to think of the lesson that I was to learn from the whole series of unfortunate events. What type of negative energy had I set in motion to have it come back upon me with such vengeance? How would I ever be able to convey the variety of emotions that had washed through me over the three-day ordeal? And, and, would I ever feel whole again? Seriously, I had never been through such a difficult time in my life. I had never felt so alone and guilty about having all my plans go awry. I sat silent until my mind could not wander any further into the ocean of questioning. My thoughts drowned in the darkness and I fell asleep.

Sunday, July 27th:

In the morning, I was picked up and taken back to camp to say goodbye to my Love. She was already preoccupied and ready to join in on the fun for the day. So, I just sat in the camp lobby waiting to be taken to the airport. That’s when my bag arrived! My luggage camp just as I was to leave to the Portland airport. All I could do was smile.

I smiled the whole way to Portland. I smiled as I ate a great fish –n –chip lunch. I smiled at all of the lobster that was on sale for $3.99 per pound. I just smiled because I had seen my baby girl and we had a great time. At some point during my sleeping hours, my mind had reconciled that the trip and difficult time had all been worth it. I had a good time getting ready to head back to San Francisco.

But! You knew it was coming!! But, the plane was late arriving. I sat in the Portland airport for over 2 ½ hours. Then we boarded the plane and sat on the tarmac for another hour. Then the plane returned to the gate to let angry passengers off to find another flight. I had been through it all before so, I decided to stay and enjoy the ride. And it was definitely an interesting ride.
I missed my connecting flight due to thunderstorms. I slept in the Philadelphia airport again. And, I swear that I looking at some of the same faces that I had seen from two nights prior. I lay in the airport Tweeting and emailing. No one could believe my story. It was so unbelievable. And somehow, the nightmare seemed to end when I got on the plane for San Francisco the next morning.

Monday, July 28th:

When I finally arrive to SFO, my bag was not there; no big deal. But! Because I had such a good time in Maine, I had forgotten about the fact that I had not parked in long-term parking as well as the fact that I did not have my credit card on me. Now broke, busted and disgusted, I had to call my brother to come and help me pay to get my car out of the short-term parking garage. At this point, I was utterly defeated by the circumstance and I had to go to work.

As I sat here and pondered another trip to Maine, I felt that one thing that would help me make my decision was writing my story. I will stay put this year.