It's Monday Afternoon. Do You Know Where My Luggage Is?

My trip to Chicago was supposed to have been a busy, but restful respite from my post-surgery house arrest period. Unfortunately, my travel callouses had lost their strength as had my right calf during my extended languishing period sur la couch.

I am continually amazed by the lack of skill and awareness exhibited by the American traveler today. It is little wonder that these knuckleheads are pickpocketed during jaunts to Europe or Oakland. I have seen more self-awareness demonstrated by my nieces and nephews - most of whom still crap their pants on an hourly basis.

To top off everything, the Continental agent swapped the luggage check tag for my bag with another bag - destination McAllen, TX. Sure, it's only the second time in seven years of constant jaunting that the big CO has misplaced my luggage. But, it's like breaking up. There's never a good time.

I pledge to fly up back to O'Hare and kick that guy in the teeth if my new Cubs hat isn't in my bag when I get it back.
The last time I ranted about traveling is here.

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