It was a horrible, awful no-good travel experience, and at the end of it my suitcase was missing.
I am thinking about the relationship between bureaucracy and totalitarianism. Seems grandiose?
All along the way, charming functionaries. The young women in Air France uniforms who directed us to the machines where not only did we have to reprint boarding passes, already printed at home, but also--this is new--print our own baggage tags, affix them to our bags, keeping bits of them as proof we checked bags.
The cabin crew, patiently doling out treats. The captain thanking us for traveling with Air France. The baggage employees soothing passengers whose bags are lost. The apologetic emails from the customer service reps, god knows where in the world. The voices on the other end of 800 numbers...so disarmingly taking the blame.
No point in yelling at any of these nice folk. They aren't responsible. They are trained to accept rage as silently as therapists.
What I ought to do is go out and buy some really nice, lace-trimmed, silky French undies and bill Air France. But that would take a couple of hours, I'd have to file a claim with bills and photocopies of travel docs, stand in line at the PO.
My bag? Somewhere in the system. It'll turn up eventually, maybe even today.
Don't fight it.