Again, Why I Prefer Driving to Flying

  After a long day of traveling back to Oregon, with my almost-gone illness flaring back to life, a squirmy baby that had a penchant for tapping the teenage gangster next to us who was trying to sleep, and poor decision making in giving a baby a chocolate muffin (CHOCOLATE EVERYWHERE), all I wanted to do when we finally landed in Portland was grab my bag and go.

  But where was my bag? I was too sick and tired to think straight, and I wandered around the baggage claim aimlessly for a few minutes. Using all my brainpower to finally figure out which carousel was correct, I watched the various cases go around and around and around. And it finally sunk in after the same red duffel bag passed me for the fourth time that my suitcase was not there.

  There were about six of us, all from connecting flights from Burbank, that did not have our bags. We were directed to an office at the end of the baggage claim, where they had a "message" to tell us.

  We all knew what the message was.

  As we trudged over, one woman loudly complained about how the service on our flight had been awful, and now this. She ended by loudly proclaiming, "Southwest is losing their touch! NEVER AGAIN."

  I didn't remember horrible service, but I was a little preoccupied during our flight with the whole baby-trying-to-wake-up-gangster thing. So I was willing to give her complaint the benefit of the doubt.

  When we got to the office we were told--SURPRISE!--our bags hadn't made the connection. They would be coming later that night, though, and would be delivered to us.

  One man at the counter was helping the woman who had complained loudly on the way over. He asked her something innocuous, like how her day had been. She replied sarcastically, and he chuckled, trying to keep the peace by acting like it was a joke.

  "Don't laugh at me, sir! Why are you laughing?! Does it look like I'm joking? Is that what they pay you for, to laugh at customers?!"

  "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'm." The man said, still smiling, unsure of whether her completely over-the-top reaction was a joke in of itself.

  "WHY ARE YOU SMILING?! STOP SMILING. IT'S NOT FUNNY."

  "I'm sorry, ma'm, it's a nervous reaction."

  "Well, MAYBE you shouldn't be working with the public if you can't help LAUGHING at them," she said in the snottiest voice I've ever heard. And I went to a bad middle school.

  The other man working finally stepped in. "Ma'm, I think you better wait outside."

  "No, I will not wait outside! I want to talk to your supervisor. I want to tell him about how irritating this man is!"

  The man who was helping her managed to remain calm and was still smiling. "Okay, I will get him, ma'm, but first I'm going to talk to your son and help him, okay? Now, what kind of bags did you two have?"

  Crazy woman replied, "They were both black rolling bags. Both of them." And then she burst into hysterical laughter.

   At that point we all realized she was either drunk or insane. Maybe both.

  The man helping her gestured to something, which set her off again. "Don't you point your finger at me like that, DON'T YOU THREATEN ME! What, you have a problem with women? Is that why you're threatening me??"

  "Whoa," We all said collectively under our breath.

  At that point she deteriorated into cursing,  including some that start with F and even a few starting with C. Because she was classy like that.

  After a final curse, she stormed out, leaving her son making embarrassed apologies.

  On the plus side, all of us that went into that office slightly pissed and ready to be snotty to the workers (I'll admit, I was of that mind) now apologized to them on behalf of our fellow passenger and were extra kind to them.

  You couldn't pay me enough.