A couple of years ago, I posted some thoughts on the demise of the last recognizable remnant of our Southern Airways -- Northwest Airlines - and included a travel tale. Of all my redtail experiences, the one that follows is the cream of the crop.
If you've read that previous post, you're aware that in the summer of 2000, my consulting job required that I commute to Saginaw, Michigan, from Nashville on a weekly basis.
I have never understood why outbound trips are never as complex as those when one is returning home, but it appears to be an unwritten natural law. Regardless, on this Friday evening, I found myself waiting out yet another summer weather delay in Detroit. The word was, our airplane was due in from Lansing, Michigan, but had not yet arrived. An hour passed, then another, and eventually we boarded flight 1742 (I think) to Nashville.
A couple of bags of peanuts later, I and my fellow passengers sprinted up the bridge in Nashville to retrieve our luggage and, uh-oh -- not a single bag matched up to the travelers on that flight. Hmm. Oh, well, I was on my return trip home and it was not such a big deal. The “lost luggage” office was just a few steps away and I joined a line midway amongst 50 or so of us.
