I felt my ears pop and I opened my eyes to the sensation of our descent into Cairo. I looked out the small window of the plane to see a landscape I had never before experienced. I have been to various beaches throughout the world, so sand isn’t all that foreign, but the vast expanses of sand that covered everything in my field of vision were almost overwhelming. It created a haze that almost reminded me of fog, obscuring faraway things from my sight. The tires bumped off of the pavement and I stretched a bit to wake myself up from the quick 1.5 hour nap that I had unexpectedly taken.
As we left the airplane and began walking like cattle towards customs I could feel the familiar excitement of immersing myself into another new culture. Buying a visa at the bank before customs for $25 USD was extremely simple and soon I was standing with the rest of the travelers around the sluggish baggage claim conveyor eagerly anticipating the emergence of our precious luggage from the mysterious square chute.
I watched as a little boy of about 5 or 6 stretched and bounced back and forth from foot to foot, preparing himself to heave his family’s luggage off of the conveyor and onto their cart. His mother stood back and watched with a smile at his enthusiasm and I couldn’t help but giggle a little bit as the first piece came out of the chute and looked to be almost the same size and weight as he was. With a determined scowl he lunged forward, grasping at the suitcase as it ignored him and continued on its way around the belt. He groaned and heaved and finally managed to get the bag up on the edge and stop its forward progress. He wore such a look of triumph on his face, satisfaction at a job well done. After the third piece of luggage his smile wasn’t nearly as large as the size of the pieces continued to grow while his stamina continued to wane. He looked up at me at one point and I gave him a thumbs up and a quick flex to show him he was strong and that seemed to be the motivation he needed to wrestle the last piece from the belt. The mother rearranged all of their luggage and headed towards the exit and that is when I returned to looking over the bags that had emerged for my own.
When I looked around I noticed that soon it was only myself and my travel companion standing there waiting next to an empty conveyor belt. Her bag had arrived almost immediately and it seemed that so had everybody else’s. I sat there hoping that the life that I had managed to squeeze into a backpack wasn’t lost to me forever. The belt lurched suddenly and halted. My heart quickly followed.
I waited for several more minutes next to the silent, immobile conveyor willing it to turn back on and spit out just one more bag. Nothing happened. I made my way over to the airline’s counter to figure out what was going on and the man who sat there looked at me like I was an idiot. He said my bag should be either on the belt or around it. He walked with us over to where I had been waiting and with a perplexed look on his face, we walked back to his computer where he typed a bit, made a few phone calls that I did not understand, and then eventually gave me a solemn look. “I do not know where your bag is.” My heart lurched again. My entire life was in that bag.
The man assured me that the bag would most likely arrive later that evening and that I could either come back and get it (thus paying for the transportation from the hostel, to the airport, and back again), or they could have it sent to my hotel. I obviously opted for the second (free) option as I am doing my best to watch finances now that I am willfully unemployed. He informed me that the bag would be sent to the hostel two days after it arrived at the airport. That means that I would be in the same clothes in the 35* C heat of Cairo for three days, and that is IF they found my bag that same day. I told him that was unacceptable and attempted to negotiate, but he was unwavering in his timeline, so I gave him the number of the hostel and told him that I would come back and pick it up whenever it arrived.
Defeated, my companion and I made our way towards the exit hoping that our driver would still be there waiting to bring us to the hostel. All I could think about was where I could find a stiff drink, a t-shirt shop, and wondered if they sold boxer briefs anywhere near the hostel. We were steps away from going through the empty security line when we heard someone shout from behind us. “Hey, my friend! Is this your bag?” I turned around and couldn’t believe it. The conveyor had sprung to life and spit out one last item, the most amazing black backpack that I had ever seen in my entire life. I don’t know what kind of cruel joke it was trying to play on me, but my bag had arrived after all.
Cody Untethered 