Picking up where we left off in my last pre-break post from Riga airport...
I ended that snowy Saturday in March 2023 huddled in my rented flat in Edinburgh, wearing every stitch of dirty clothes I had on me, because the place was colder than a jilted polar bear's shoulder, and my luggage was somewhere in Germany.
Turned out I had more like 15 minutes, and Bill Nye-level* speedwalking skills, so I just made it on to the plane before the boarding door closed.
But unfortunately my checked luggage didn't move as quickly as I did.
When I landed, I had a text from the airline that my bag had been rebooked on the first flight in the morning, and I should talk to the staff at my destination to have them deliver it to me upon its arrival. But Edinburgh airport isn't all that big or busy, and the place was practically a ghost town at 8pm on a Saturday. There was nobody working in the baggage hall where my suitcase didn't arrive, no staff at the luggage help desk, no one there representing the airline. So after spending about an hour alternately wandering around looking for anyone wearing a vest from Menzies (the luggage handling company - no luck), and calling the phone number listed for baggage help (which just rang and rang 63 times, every time I tried), I gave up.
Luckily Edinburgh's my second home and I could stock up on all the sundries and accoutrements I'd need to live there for a few days within the allotted time of a game show shopping spree. But not at 9-10pm on a Saturday night. So I grabbed a couple essentials from airport shops, and headed out to the aforementioned ice-cold flat, to complain out loud to no one for a couple hours as I waited for the radiators to kick in so I could finally get some sleep.
Meanwhile, Lufthansa was really great with providing me details about the flight my bag was on and when it was arriving, which was useful, since at this point my only option was to go back and try to collect it myself. So the next morning, I did enough shopping to get me through the day, then headed back to the airport, arriving right as the plane with my luggage was landing. If all went to plan, I could grab it quickly and still get to Scotland's Six Nations rugby game that afternoon, which was what had brought me to Embra in the first place.
But what's that saying about human plans and laughing deities? Yeah...
When I arrived, I found a Menzies guy right away, who was really helpful, but told me that even though the bags would be off the plane in 10 minutes, they were so busy and understaffed that it might be an hour or two before anyone would have a chance to get away and bring my bag out to me. So I could either leave and make it to the game that Scotland was likely to lose to Ireland anyway, and spend my evening back at the airport on a wild luggage goose chase, or wait and probably not make it to Murrayfield. I decided to stay put.
There's not much to do or many places to sit in EDI airport, so I drank some coffee, ambled in circles (getting in my steps, yo), and just kind of hung around near the exit of the baggage hall for what felt like 97 hours, until I finally saw the same Menzies guy come out the door pushing a cart overloaded with bags, including mine. I followed him, and when he saw and recognized me, he stopped to get me my case back.
My bag was on the bottom of the cart, so as he was in the process of unloading to get to it, an older English man in a business suit walked past all the people who were waiting, stepped between me and the baggage guy like I didn't even exist, and started shouting about nobody being at the desk to help him with his lost luggage. Menzies Dude was very apologetic, explained that they had staffing issues, and that he wasn't the person who could get more staff anyway. So English Male Karen (what are they called? Nigel? Colin? I'm going with Colin) yelled the same things a few more times, along with some red-faced demands to see the manager. But there wasn't any management working ('cause duh, it's Scotland on a Sunday!), which set him off even further, and he continued his high-decibel bellyaching for at least 5 more minutes, repeating his list of entitled complaints while all the bystanders stared in disbelief and Baggage Man just looked tired.
Eventually Colin was satisfied that he'd done enough shrieking, turned, and walked away, with no resolution. Total tantrum, complete embarrassment, accomplished absolutely nothing. Typical Colin behaviour.
When he finally left, I got my bag and thanked the baggage guy
profusely, because he really had been super nice and helpful, and should not have had to listen to that jerk's tirade. There's not enough money in the world to pay what people in service industries deserve for putting up with his kind of nonsense.
Anyway. With all the delay, I didn't make it to the game, but I did watch all but the first few minutes on the BBC... Didn't miss much, Scotland lost. I wasn't surprised.
*Not the Science Guy, the Almost Live recurring character, for anyone not familiar with 1990s local Seattle pop culture... which is probably everyone other than me.
