Oh how joyous the return of the missing blogger should have been. And yet. It could not be. For the no-longer-missing blogger's suitcase promptly went missing the minute she was found.
The suitcase did not appear on the SFO baggage carousel. Nor was there any record of it in Lufthansa's computer tracking system.
Multiple phone calls to multiple baggage-claim hotlines at multiple airports on multiple days at multiple times yielded multiple instances of non-information. When grilled about the suitcase's current location and possible date of delivery, Lufthansa agent Hildegard von Bingen grew huffy. "Eight thousand suitcases have been misplaced in the past two days. Flights are overbooked. Cargo holds have not an inch to spare. What do you want from me!?"
Thus:
The blogger wore blue jeans (extra-wide flair) and Frye boots (weather-beaten) to the annual German-American Bastel gathering in Sebastopol on December 23.
The blogger wore blue jeans and Frye boots to the Heiligabend celebration hosted by the incomparable Mom of blogger in Cow Hollow on December 24.
The blogger wore blue jeans and Frye boots on Christmas Day itself.
These happened to be the same blue jeans and Frye boots that the blogger wore sixteen hours straight on her journey from Berlin to Munich to San Francisco December 22. The jeans were in need of washing before the plane took off. They were paired with a JCrew sweater, the scent of whose armpit seams is best left unimagined.
Fortunately, the aforementioned attire did not prevent the missing blogger from bastelling a most charming pink-haired Hampelmann (captured in the much-anticipated "Hampelmann in the Ghetto" short film, due in theaters February 10); nor from participating in a rousing Kling Gloeckchen sing-along to the accompaniment of her brother's Conga drum. Furthermore, the blogger's outfit, though a resounding Christmas Eve fashion faux pas (consider, in contrast, the burgundy silks and black velvets of her cousin A.), proved no hindrance to the blogger's lighting of candles on the incomparable Mom of blogger's tree. Much to the blogger's dismay, her brother was able, with a single match, to light five candles for her every three. This appears to have nothing to do with the blogger's ripe-smelling clothes. Rather, it is her shoddy hand-eye coordination that is to blame. (Just try telling her that.)
The blogger's missing suitcase did, however, preclude her from:
Arriving at Basteltag bearing the fresh Stollen cake she had purchased in Berlin precisely for the event.
Charging the dead battery of her Sony Vaio laptop.
Delivering two tins of home-baked Plaetzchen from Aunt A. in Bavaria (just like Oma used to make 'em) for the incomparable Mom of blogger + father.
Charging the dead battery of her Motorola cell phone.
Distributing the many Teutonic gifts (carved wooden bare-butt angels, ginger-infused chocolate bars, silk handkerchiefs, etc.) she had so lovingly acquired for family and friends. This, above all, sucked.
Not until long after the festivities had come to a close did the suitcase arrive. Thanks to United Airlines. And via Chicago's O'Hare Airport.
Never had the blogger been more thrilled to unzip the zipper that always sticks on the Koffer that always tips. She promptly unloaded Plaetzchen, Stollen, Schokoladen into the arms of her weary parentals, then forced them to admire the oh-so-cute skirts she would have worn to three days of activities honoring the birth of the Christ Child himself. Had she been able.
The case of the missing suitcase: Officially closed.
But. Where the hell is Bayreuth Boy? Nobody knows.
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