Not My Bra
I’ve got a story for you. I took my two exchange students, Giacomo & Markel on a spring break trip out west. I spent weeks planning a trip that would maximize their USA experience. I’d locked in a route that allowed us to see cliff dwellings in New Mexico, the Grand Canyon and a military base in Arizona, the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas in Nevada and eventually the pacific ocean in southern California.
We opted to share one giant, ugly purple suitcase for the trip. When we landed in Las Vegas, we grabbed our suitcase and as we started to leave Giacomo asked if we should check to make sure it was ours. So I quickly unzipped a corner. I saw a brightly colored sports bra and quipped “yep - it’s ours. There’s my sports bra.” I zipped it up and off we went.
First stop - New Mexico a mere 5-hour drive away. We rolled into our hotel a little after 11 pm exhausted and having nearly run out of gas in the desert along the way. Once in the room, all I wanted to do was go to bed.
I tossed the suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. My mind had trouble comprehending what I was looking at. The boys had packed some very odd things. Jeans, jeans, and more jeans. Where were my clothes? And ... My sports bra had turned into a baby’s swimsuit.
After a few moments of disbelief, the reality of what we’d done sank in. We’d taken someone else’s suitcase from the airport. We were now 5+ hours from the airport and had no intention of going back for a week. The route I’d mapped out took us on a wide circle far from there.
I wanted to cry. Over the boy’s howling laughter, I picked up the phone and called the airport. Eventually, it was determined we would skip our New Mexico adventure, take the suitcase back to the airport, swap it for ours and then head straight to the Grand Canyon.
Shortly after lunch the next day, we made it to the airport, swapped suitcases and hit the road once more. The boy’s attitudes were amazing through the whole thing, and by the time we pulled out of the airport for the second time, I’d pulled through my funk and we were all laughing over Markel’s impersonations of me and the disbelief on my face when I opened the wrong suitcase.
I realized that mistakes and detours happen in life, but I have a choice how I respond to them. I chose laughter and to turn it into a story of misadventure. Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation? How did you respond?
See you on the trails