Crushed Toes and Toppled Bags

Have you ever had one of those moments where you say to yourself, “this is one of those things that you only see in the movies”?

We definitely had that moment yesterday.

Let me explain.

There are 11 of us Americans traveling across the country, each with 3 pieces of checked luggage, a carry on, and most of us with a purse or backpack.

Basically, we have a lot of crap.

Leaving Dallas was easy peasy. We had all of our luggage checked with no problems and went through security without a question asked.

We also had 3 hours in which to do all of this.

We board the plane and settle into a long, but easy flight.

Then comes London.

We knew beforehand that we only had a little over an hour to get off the plane, go through security (yes again, because London airport is stupid) and board our next plane.

So when our plane landed, we were ready to hurry through security and get to our next gate with at LEAST thirty minutes to spare.

Boy were we wrong.

***Lights, camera, ACTION.

When we land, it takes a good twenty minutes for us to even get off the plane.

Ok so now we have fourty minutes.

No big deal, we got this. Everyone just lift your knees and pick up the pace a tad.

We finally make it to security. 30 minutes left.

“Hey security lady, we need to board a plane in 15 minutes. Can you help us through?”

*British accent** “Of course, just go to the end of the line.”

Really?? Thanks for the advice.

Everyone splits; half goes to one line, half goes to the other.

One half gets through security no problem.

The rest of us, however, not so easy.

Four bags, I repeat, FOUR of our bags got pulled aside for further checking.

Further checking means this: pulling EVERY SINGLE ITEM out of the bag, placing “questionable” things in one bin and everything else in the other, and running them both BACK through the scanner thing.

I forgot to mention, we had FOUR other people in front of us who also had to get their bags checked.

And apparently the common speed for these London security peoples is COLD MOLASSES.

I’m freaking out.

I have already been named “Mom” of the group (fitting, right?) so there was this added pressure of keeping my cool while taking care of everyone.

So I say to the lady, “Ma’am, we have to board our plane in ten minutes. Is there any way we can move our stuff up so we don’t miss it?”

Nonchalant response, “I can’t do anything for you. Go find someone with a blue vest.”

Immediately my eagle eyes start searching. I SEE THE VEST.

I run over there, explained the situation, and she calls the people at our gate to let them know we are still going through security.

I cue the team to go to the gate to wait for us and we’ll meet them there soon.

All this happens, I go back to my bag, STILL THREE BAGS IN FRONT OF MINE.

And mine is the first of our four to be checked.

MOTHER OF PEARL.

My foot starts tapping while my mind is goes back and forth between praying and wanting to go crazy on this lady.

FINALLY, they get to my bag.

One by one, she pulls each item out.

“Ma’am, our plane leaves in 7 minutes.”

No response.

Just super slow checking.

Finally, THE VEST shows back up and she moves one of our bags to another security line to be checked.

Five minutes left.

Foot tapping becomes faster, steam starts flowing out of my ears.

Philip, one of our interns, comes running to us.

“So they said the plane is leaving in two minutes and they recommend us splitting up and half taking the next flight.”

NOT ON MY WATCH. We are not splitting up!

“Ma’am, our plane is leaving, like, flying away, in two minutes. Can you please help us?”

Somehow, in one minute and thirty seconds, we get the last of the bags checked.

As soon as she said, “it’s good,” we immediately start stuffing things back in as fast as we can.

“Go! Go! Go!”

The four of us take off.

Ryan, the only guy with us, is holding carrying two ginormous bags.

Steph has her two bags and a pillow. She yells out, “I can’t find my passport!”

I scream, “I’ve got it! Keep going!!”

We tackle through crowds, turn the corner and see an escalator.

Full of people.

NOOOOOOOOOOO.

Steph plows through everyone, no problem. Ryan pauses, the man in front of him says, “You got it.”

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, everyone on the escalator parts to one side and gives us pity stares as we run past them.

Pretty sure we said, “Scuze me, sorry, we’re so sorry, excuse us, sorry about your toe” about a thousand times.

We get to the bottom of the escalator, turn the corner and pick up the pace.

Little did I realize, I was rolling my bag behind me on its front end, not even using the wheels.

Sorry about your display stand, London.

FINALLY we see our people at the gate.

“We’re coming! It’s us! Wait, please!”

It was so beautiful, I’m pretty sure a tear was shed.

WE MADE IT.

They scan us in and we make our journey down the hall and onto our plane.

Ahh. Sweet relief, right?

Wrong.

We were getting the worst stares ever.

Stupid Americans. You disgust me with your loud and obnoxious ways.

We try our hardest to quickly stuff our bags in the overhead bins, but since we were the very last to board, our pickings were slim.

Bless her heart, a mom and her little girl were sitting on a row alone. She shyly looks around, picks up her daughter and with broken English says, “You guys can sit here.”

Bless you, lady. And your child. And your family. And whatever else you need blessings over.

Ok NOW we can relax.

3 hours later, we make it to Bucharest.

This is where we have to make sure we collect our 33 bags that we checked back in Dallas.

Each weighs around 50 pounds.

To our surprise, we find them all.

PRAISE YOU JESUS.

Now, time to find carts!

Last summer, we found ten. Perfect amount!

This year? Only two.

TWO STINKING CARTS that are only supposed to hold about 3 bags.

Again, MOTHER OF PEARL.

Ok, guys. We can do this. Carter, start stacking. Girls, take as many as you can handle.

We slowly start making our way out of the baggage claim. The boys and three of the girls are way ahead and making perfect progress.

Steph, Laura, Michelle, and I, however, not so much.

Steph is pushing the cart with about 11 or 12 bags on it. Michelle is awkwardly holding and pulling about 3 bags, a backpack and a pillow. Laura and I are trying to push two bags each that aren’t quite cooperating.

We walk through the automatic doors that opens us to an audience of about 200 Romanians waiting for their visitors.

Doors open, Steph walks through, starts to turn and SLIIIIIIIIIDE.

ALL of the bags on her cart take a plunge to the left.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

Our audience lets out an “oh” in response.

Steph looks at me in panic and we immediately start piling them back on.

Where are the guys?? We need them! This is so embarrassing!

No boys in sight.

No one even offers to help.

Don’t mind us, Romanians. We’re just being your classic Americans and making fools of ourselves.

We finally get all of the bags loaded back onto the cart and on our way to the vans.

We see our people.

The guys come over to help.

FINALLY we are relieved of our burdens.

After about two more toppled carts, we finally get the vans loaded.

PRAISE JESUS.

We plop down in the vans and let out the biggest sigh of relief.

WE MADE IT.

All eleven of us and our millions of bags.

Safe and sound in the vans.

Hallelujah, praise the Lord.

At 11:00pm, we pull into Casa Rene, unload the vans, shower, and plop down on our heavenly bunks, (or at least, heavenly when you’re running on no sleep and way too much stress).

Needless to say, our adventure to Romania was rather entertaining.

But the Lord was with us the entire way and helped us keep our cool through it all. The events that happened only helped strengthen the bond between us interns and I am confident that while this was only one event, when we reach other bumps in the road, our team will be able to make it through.

***Side note: mid-blog writing, we decide to hike up the hill to see our favorite view. Just as we are making the final turn, a swarm of bees light up and we have to run down to escape.

TRUE STORY.