I arrived safe and sound to Bangkok after a long and boring night flight, only to discover that my luggage didn’t fare as well. Apparently, my backpack went to Hong Kong.
I always knew that one day my backpack would be old enough to go traveling without me and off she’d go. It’s just part of being a parent – our children aren’t our own, we’re just borrowing them for a while. Like with anything one borrows, the idea is to take good care of it and return it in good condition, preferably with a full tank and the oil and water topped up.
Still, I hadn’t expected my bag to fly the coop so soon; after all, she’s barely two years old! The good people at the airport baggage services counter assured me that should my backpack be recovered, it will be returned to me. But like any runaway, one can only hope that after a crappy night or two out in the cold, they will come back – sadly, many of them are never heard from again.
I would very much like to see my backpack again, because there’s no way I could replace my fetoscopes and stock of herbal tinctures and other assorted midwifery whatnots before I will need them next.
On the bright side, I still had my carry-on bag with my computer in it, my passport and wallet. And I’m in Bangkok, so I could easily get a room at my favourite guest house, buy some clean clothes very cheaply, go eat a yummy meal at Pen Thai - my favourite place to eat in the whole world,
And spend an evening drinking a beer on Khao San Road, watching the people go by and chatting to interesting strangers.
Backpack, if you’re reading this, please come home; everything is forgiven and I promise never to over-stuff you again!