Paris, France
I was due, I suppose. All these miles, all these countries, all these flights to all these airports over all these years and my luggage had always managed to travel with me.
So when the conveyor belt ground to a halt in Brussels and my backpack hadn’t appeared, I reluctantly concluded that the law of averages had finally hitched a ride with me. While judging by my past karmic experience, such an event would surely beget future travel calamities, but it was not to be.
Since that minor hiccup (the bag was delivered to Paris the next day), I have absolutely no disasters to report. Yet.
