Part II - Fun in the Big Apple at the National Stationery Show! June 16 2013, 4 Comments

....I grabbed the wrong bag. “F—k! F—k!”  I let out one sob and shed one tear because I sweated out all the water in my body. I dig in my purse, find the shuttle ticket with the phone number, and call.

 "Airport Shuttle”, says a man’s voice. Me, "Hi; I picked up the wrong luggage when I got off the shuttle at Grand Central Station and somebody must have my bag.""Uh huh; hold on please”, the voice says. (Shuffling sounds)"What's your name? P-U-R-I-T? Oh; P-R-U-I-TT. Is it on your luggage? What does it look like? Size?  Color? Obviously we haven’t heard anything Ms. Purit but we’ll let you know if someone calls.” “Tanks a lot”, I say. 

I have plans for drinks and dinner with the design team (MSLK Graphic Design) I have been working with over the past year. I Call Sheri, one of the owners and explain what happened. She at first appears sympathetic; "April I am so sorry". Then in a “Ball Up” voice says, "There's nothing you can do about the luggage so meet us for dinner and when your bag arrives you can head back to your hotel." “Um; Ok”, I said. “I’ll check back with you in a couple of hours.” Hmm, I think. Sheri is always efficient and practical.  She’s one of those people that can jog, breastfeed and blue tooth, all at the same time.  And I’m still in moist clothing from bopping around the city. I have no makeup or change of clothing, and, I do not want to haul my butt to wherever dinner is, wondering when if I’ll ever see my luggage again. I take the spread off the bed and lie down. I have a vague thought of bed bugs and fall asleep. 

RING! I jump up and feel spittle on my chin. My cell phone is ringing. I answer and hurray!  It’s the shuttle company! They have my bag and I can pick it up where the shuttle dropped me off. For a brief moment I want to ask why can’t they bring it to me but I am guilty of taking a bag that is not my own so I won’t complain. I get myself together combing my hair and see a pillow mark on my face. I drag the bag behind me out of my hotel room.

I go out the lobby door and hail a cab. The traffic is crazy. I walk further away from the hotel and closer to the corner to increase my odds. Someone is in front of me by 50 feet trying to get a cab. A cab passes her and me and goes to the front of the hotel. I head back toward the hotel and I notice there are people in the cab paying and getting ready to come out. The cabbie waves me away.  So I step back to wait.  Then some guy runs up to the cabbie. The cabbie points to me, and the guy turns to look at me.  I say, “Excuse me!” and the guy says, “I didn’t see you”. Jeez!

I won’t go on anymore about this just to say I got my bag back! That night I met with Sheri and Marc (the other owner) at Battery Park for a lovely dinner, al fresco. Once I had a couple of drinks and we were laughing I realized something.  It wasn’t the running around all day that got me rattled, or, that Sheri was too perky for my tastes.  I was scared to death about how the show was going to go.

Part III…..The Show! week!