Packing Our Bags…or Not…
A lot of funny things can happen on a girls trip. Forgetting something isn’t usually one of them, but on several adventures to Florida, it absolutely was. The five of us were giddy with excitement to start our weekend of sun, giggles, eating, and drinking. We grabbed our bags from the airport luggage carousel, picked up our rental car keys, and headed out to the lot. We got to the car and realized that getting all the luggage in the trunk was going to be a challenge. Five women and a sedan did not make for easy loading.
Alex, Savvy, Ali, and Meri started throwing in bags; I stood out of the way. I figured we didn’t need another body in the mix. After putting in and removing the suitcases, bags, and purses multiple times, we got it done and headed off. We stopped for lunch in a little town about 20 minutes from the airport. On our way back to the car, we ran into a gentleman.
“Hey, I think you ladies left some luggage at the airport,” he said.
“Uh, no,” we said, thinking, ‘How the fuck would he know?’ “We got it all.”
“No, I saw you leave a bag in the parking lot. It had a neck pillow, a Guidepost magazine, and some crochet or other old lady stuff.”
“No, really,” I said. “It’s not ours. We wouldn’t pack that kind of shit for a girls trip.”
“I’m telling you, I saw you leave it there. Those four were working hard to get everything in the car, and you – the tallest and strongest one – just stood back and watched with your arms crossed. And then you all piled in the car and took off, leaving the bag on the ground.”
We paused, because that’s exactly what happened. And then Savvy smiled. “Oh shit. I think that is my carry on.” We all turned to her with a WTF look on our faces. “What?” she cried in defense. “I flew from Wisconsin and I wanted to sleep and have stuff to do on the flight.”
Giggling, we asked the guy if it was still in the parking lot.
“No. I took it to the customer service counter at the airport,” he replied. We thanked him and went on our merry way. Apparently we had forgotten something.
Leaving it Wide Open
Another year, we rented a minivan. Not a cougar car for sure, but it was better than cramming into a sedan. One day we were headed to a nearby beach town for some great Mexican food. After a night of drinking, we needed a sustainable lunch…and some margaritas. We laughed the whole way, reliving the previous nights’ escapades: dancing with Ron Jeremy without realizing who he was (see Blog “The Hedgehog”); the guy we named Duce when he walked out of the men’s closet of a bathroom and left a remarkable stink lingering outside the door; the guy wearing overalls, no shirt, and a straw hat; the drunk cook at a restaurant who almost took out Pam by pushing her off the sidewalk.
Once we arrived, we jumped out of the van and practically ran to the restaurant. More giggling ensued, and I shared intimate stories of my life with the entire restaurant (see Blog “Hibiscus!”). Two hours later, we returned to the minivan and almost had a panic attack: both sliding doors were wide open.
“Shit!” cried Alex. “Someone broke into the van and robbed us!”
We looked around and no one was lingering. We peeked in the car and realized that no one had robbed us. There was nothing in the van to take. Instead, when we left for lunch, we had been caught in the memories of the previous days and nights. We left the car unlocked and the two sliding doors wide open. We had literally done a mic drop on the van. We’re out!