Fable Of A Failed Case

The week started off with a run of the mill trip to Brussels and degenerated into a farce of Kafkaesque proportions, orchestrated by the clowns who run the baggage section at Brussels airport, aided and abetted by the courier service from hell.

Monday 30th June 09:45 Brussels Airport
Having watched the belt for the Edinburgh flight go round and round for about 15 minutes, with no sign of yours truly's case, I went off in search of the airport's resident luggage brigade. I was then told that my case had not left Edinburgh due to 'a shortage of baggage handlers'. I must admit that I didn't realise they were an endangered species, but will remember them the next time the WWF come round collecting. I gave them the address of my apartment in Brussels and was told that they'd give me a call when the luggage arrived at the airport, which would be around 19:30.

17:30 In the Office
The opening salvo of Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love peels around the office. I answer my phone to find that it's Brussels airport phoning to let me know that my luggage has arrived, earlier than I'd expected at the airport. "Fantastic", said I, "I'll collect it from the airport later", to which they replied that they'd keep it there ready for me to pick it up.

19:30 Brussels Airport
One lift from 'Big Phil' later I was back at the luggage desk and escorted into a back room to find my case. Or rather, not to find it as it wasn't there. "Oh dear" said they, "There appears to have been a mix up, the courier has picked up your bag and taken it away for delivery." I then pointed out that their blatent disregard of the note on the computer system stating that it would be collected from the airport by me, at the very least warranted a cab to my flat so I could get there before it did. "Oh no", said they, we can't do that, "i'll tell you what, we'll phone the courier and ask them to deliver your case last, which means it'll be there between 22:00 and midnight. "Great", said I, "that's just what I need after being up at the crack of dawn and on the red eye flight to Brussels."

21:15 My Brussels Apartment
A train to Gare du Nord and a 61 bus later I was back in the Appartment to commence my wait.

00:00 On the Verge Of Falling Asleep...
Merde, le luggage c'nest pas arrivee !!!!

Tuesday July 1st a.m.
A great multiple rings to the number supplied by the luggage desk proved fruitless. Either no one was answering, their phone was off the hook or they'd all been eaten by a passing horde of demons. At this point I was hoping it was the demons. I then called BMI Diamond Club, who patched me through to their lost baggage department. "We'll try to contact Brussels airport and the courier service for you." they said. I asked for a status update in a couple of hours, but they declined stating that they'd get back to me when they'd made a breakthrough. "Good luck.", said I, "You'll have more luck trying to contact the dead.". On the plus side, they did say I was entitled to the generous sum of £25 per day compensation for each day it was AWOL.

later that evening... meanwhile in Gotham City....or was that back at the flat?
No call from BMI, bugger all idea what the f**ck was going on and the realisation hitting me that I had no clean clothes left. To avert an unpleasant stench in the office from day old socks the next day, I warned work that I would need to take same time out in the morning to buy some clothes.

Wednesday July 2nd Morning
Taking the ubiquitous 61 bus to Rogier I proceeded to, drink a couple of espressos, eat a pain au chocolate, wait for the shops to open and purchase 3 shirts, 1 pair of trousers, 3 pairs of pants and 3 pairs of socks. 3 is a magic number. Back on the 61 bus, changing faster than a speeding Clark Kent in a phone booth, into clean clothes, and off on the 65 bus to work.

13:15
Another call to BMI to determine what was happening. Had my luggage been found, lost, or fallen into a black hole? They couldn't tell me but did promise this time to give me an update in two hours time.

14:02

You need coolin', baby, I'm not foolin',
I'm gonna send you back to schoolin'...

Christ, it seems a shame to answer my phone with that ring tone. Forcing myself to hit the answer button I found it was Brussels airport on the phone, and they could confirm they had my luggage, hurrah!!! "Would I like it delivered to my appartment?". Hmmm, tough one that, given their previous track record the luggage could end up in Outer Mongolia, or even worse, somewhere like Slough. "No thanks", said I, "I'll come to the airport and collect it.".

18:45 Brussels Airport
Another lift courtesy of "Big Phil" later and I was back at the Baggage desk. And, miracle of miracles, the luggage was handed over. Hurrah !!!!

20:30 Back At the Flat - Addendum - Dave's Story
Speaking to the chap in the flat above mine, Dave, he asked me if I'd got my luggage yet. "How do you know about the luggage?", said I, there then unfolded the tale of Dave and the luggage...

On Monday night, Dave's door bell rang, going downstairs he found a delivery van there. The driver, obviously a synaptically challenged individual as he couldn't press the button with my name on it, said he had some luggage for yours truely. "OK", said Dave, "I'll take it and pass it on to George when I see him". The driver then scuttled off to his van, looked inside, and returned to Dave to say, "Sorry, the luggage isn't there, it must have been left at the depot".

Cue Squirty Flowers and Custard Pies, roll some suitable big top music...

If anyone out there has a worse tale of gross incompetence, stupidity and mind numbing ineptitude, that doesn't involve George W Bush, I'd like to hear it.

Next time I think I'll buy some luggage with the wee legs. At least it'll be able to find it's own way home.