Rough Landing – An Ode to Military Humor

Our flight from Honolulu International Airport to Seattle-Tacoma international Airport turned out to be one of the best flights that I have ever been on.  My family and I flew first class all the way and we enjoyed every minute of that flight.  I had never before, nor have I since been on a flight where I have flown first-class.  I have been upgraded to business class a few times on some airlines due to extenuating circumstances, and business-class does come close to the amenities and comfort offered on first-class.  But it’s just not quite the same.  We took advantage of every perk that they offered on board that flight.  Believe me, it was nice.  Even the warm moist washcloths to wipe your face and neck was a nice touch.  And we never had to ask for a drink or something to eat.  The stewardess was always stopping by to ask if she could get us something.  And every time she stopped she got us something because somebody always wanted something, whether that was another drink or another snack to eat.  And we did not lack for entertainment during that flight.  However, our arrival at Seattle-Tacoma international Airport was not quite as smooth.  In fact, you could argue that we had a rough landing.  No.  No.  No.  The plane did not land like the pilot did not know what the hell he was doing or like he had gotten his pilot’s license out of a crackerjack box.  The plane actually touched down and taxied up to the hanger in a routine sort of way.  I can’t really say that it was the most spectacular landing that I’ve ever experienced.  But I can also say that it’s not the worst landing that I’ve ever experienced.  As plane landings go, it was about average.  And my family and I got our carry-on luggage, which I must admit was a lot, and got off the plane right quick and in a hurry.  That usually doesn’t happen when you’re sitting back there at the tail end of the plane in economy class.  No Sir.  When you’re back in economy class, it can take days to get off the damn plane.  Sometimes, it seems like you’re standing there, not moving at all.  And a line of people in front of you isn’t even budging to disembark the plane.  But when you’re in first-class, Wham Bam thank you ma’am, and you are off the damn plane.  It is just that quick.  And you better not blink or you just might miss it.  But you see, all good things gotta come to an end and it was the same with this experience.  We no sooner arrived at the luggage carousel when we learned of our rough landing.  Well, it wasn’t so much us as it was our luggage.  Or should I say lack of luggage.  We waited at the luggage carousel for almost an hour and a half.  But there was no sign of our luggage.  None of it.  Three hard-case Samsonite suitcases, one rolling Samsonite duffel bag and one military duffel bag, all missing.  I went to the airline claims office and filed a claim for the missing luggage.  The agent told me to call back in approximately four hours because another flight was due in from Hawaii later that day.  Since nothing ever works as fast as people say it works, I waited five hours to call the airline.  But there was no sign of our luggage.  I called the airline the next day, but our luggage still had not shown up.  On day two, after calling the airline and learning that our luggage still had not been found, my family and I decided to go shopping for some clothes.  I mean, seriously, what else could we do?  We couldn’t keep wearing the same smelly stinky clothes.  Well, I suppose we could, but other people might not appreciate that.  But then, was I really in the business of trying to make other people happy?  Hmmm… I’d have to think about that.  After we returned from shopping, I started to put together a detailed estimate of our losses.  I figured that I just might need such an itemized estimate when I went to battle against the airline.  Day three rolled around, but there was still no sign of our missing luggage.  The loss agent at the airline must have gotten tired of hearing from me because she told me to stop calling and that she would call me the minute our luggage showed up.  I said okay but I didn’t believe her for a minute.  She was just trying to get me to go away.  But I’m like one of those annoying little squeaks (like on a squeaky shopping cart wheel) that just won’t go away.  And if you ignore it long enough, it just gets louder and louder and louder until you finally have to do something about it.  Yep.  That’s me.  So when day four rolled around, I called the airline loss agent once again to ask if our luggage had shown up.  She told me that she had some good news.  I asked her what her good news was.  She replied that two of my five bags had arrived.  Yay.  She had a forty percent solution.  That’s almost right.  Almost.  But not quite.  I went down to the airline to pick up the two suitcases that had shown up.  It turns out that really only one piece of our luggage truly showed up intact.  That was my military duffel bag.  It showed up safe and sound still locked.  And one of our hard-shell Samsonite suitcases showed up.  That suitcase looked like it had been through a war zone.  It was twisted and bent and taped together with at least two roles of the airline equivalent of hundred-mile-an-hour tape.  For those of you that don’t have a clue what hundred-mile-an-hour tape is, that’s just slang for duct tape.  Cuz the military has always gotta give everything a ‘gee-whiz’ name.  And you gotta agree, hundred-mile-an-hour tape sounds way more cool than duct tape.  Right?  When I inspected the suitcase, it turned out to be mine and it turned out to be missing an electric razor.  On day five, when I called the airline loss agent again, she reported that our other three bags had arrived.  I was almost afraid to go down to the airport to see what condition our luggage was in.  One of our hard-shell Samsonite suitcases showed up completely intact.  That turned out to be my wife’s suitcase.  The Samsonite duffel bag also turned out to be intact.  However, the third hard-shell Samsonite suitcase looked like it had been through another war zone.  I just couldn’t help myself.  I asked the loss agent what they had done with our luggage?  I asked, “What did you do?  Did you call this suitcase up to the zoo and throw it in the elephant cage to let the elephants stomp on it first?  Then maybe you hauled it over to the tank range at Fort Lewis so that it could be run over a few times by a tank?  Oh, and possibly did your mechanics use the clothes to wipe their hands after they changed the oil on all of your vehicles?  Cuz that’s what it looks like.  There is virtually nothing salvageable here.  Except maybe some of the tape that you bandaged the suitcase together with.  And how many rolls of tape did you use on the damn suitcase?  Four?  Five, maybe?  This shit is going straight to the trashcan.  It’s a total loss.  My daughter has nothing to wear.  Thanks a lot.”  The loss agent tried to get me to sign a form limiting their liability for the loss to something like $250.  But I wouldn’t sign that bullshit because my loss on just my daughter’s suitcase, based on my detailed estimate, was at least $564.  Plus, the loss of the suitcase, which was another $120.  Then there was the loss of my suitcase totaling $120 plus the loss of my electric razor, which totaled forty dollars.  There was no way in hell I was signing a statement to limit the airline’s liability to $250.  They were going to pay me the full amount of my claim.  After threatening to get a lawyer involved, the airline agreed to pay my claim in full.  Essentially, I spent almost 2 weeks in Tacoma negotiating the exercises in futility that my family endured as a result of our rough landing after our trip from Hawaii.

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