Chapter Three
I leave the Delta service desk and head downstairs to the Delta Baggage Claim Office to collect my hard case, wondering if I can hop a ride with another airline and what it will cost to check an oversize overweight hard case onto an airline that is an unknown quantity. I arrive at the Delta Baggage Office and meet the nicest yankee lady I've ever encountered in my life. I told her my situation and asked if my case had arrived at the baggage office.
"Just a moment please, sir."
She delves into her computer, typing furiously and clicking the mouse intermittently. After a moment she looks up briefly and says, "It shows that it was transferred off of the arriving flight, but I don't see it's physical location listed. Let me go check on it in the back area, I'll be back shortly."
True to her word, she reappeared after a brief interval shaking her head. "Sir, if you'll bear with me, I'll locate your bags ASAP, and in the meantime I recommend checking the baggage claim belt just in case there's been some mistake."
Crap! Firearms are ALWAYS collected at the airline baggage office, and now it's possible my hard case with irreplaceable firearms are circulating on a belt where Joe Schmoe can develop an interest in them??!!
I head towards the baggage belt feeling my pulse beginning to increase in the bulging vein in my neck. If I find my bag on the belt, there's gonna be trouble. I wait ~30 minutes at the belt for my hard case, checking intermittently with the nearby Delta Oversize Baggage office.
After all the bags from my flight had been pulled off the belt, my hard case is still a no-show. Now I'm contemplating the possibility that some ramp monkey has gotten sticky fingers with my case, as if enough of the trip so far hadn't gone wrong.
I stopped putting the brakes on the getting pissed off and decided that at this point blind rage isn't unjustified. Somebody had better start coming through for me or I'm going to stage a Canadian Protest!!!!