Histori Personale

The agony of losing a suitcase and the confession of a journalist victim of chaos at airports

The agony of losing a suitcase and the confession of a journalist victim of

By Charlotte Kemp/ In this summer of travel chaos, with mountains of luggage piling up at every airport, my bag is languishing somewhere between Malta and Gatwick.

We've all seen the recent photos from Heathrow – endless seas of undeclared suitcases and bags like a scene from a drama film.

But the chaos is not confined to the UK's busiest airport. There are problems everywhere.

It's just the beginning. With post-pandemic staff shortages at all UK airports, the chaos we've seen so far will only get worse until it peaks over the summer holidays.

Never before has that ritual baggage check on the runway felt more like spinning a roulette wheel, praying you don't lose (your suitcase in this case).

Losing our suitcase was the ultimate humiliation at the end of a nightmare journey from Malta to our home in Kent.

My husband Tom and I woke up at 4.30am on the day of our return to find that easyJet had canceled the flight. I felt a rush of panic. We had to go back as our two daughters were going to school - but EasyJet could offer a flight six days later.

What ensued was a mad scramble to get home with everyone. We ended up flying from Malta to Barcelona for one night, and then on to Dublin with Aer Lingus. A complicated itinerary that meant getting on and off the plane six times.

The agony of losing a suitcase and the confession of a journalist victim of

I last saw my red suitcase at check-in in Barcelona.

At Gatwick, a few hours later we waited and waited for him, but he was not coming.

One by one the other passengers disappeared. Still nothing. Nerves started to take their toll. An employee told us to wait a little longer. But a terrible feeling and doubt arose: Had my beautiful clothes come with us?

We knocked door to door at the airport and counter to counter

Burri në tavolinën e Aer Lingus na sugjeroi me optimizëm të prisnin në aeroport deri në orën 21:00. Ora ishte 17:00, por vajzat ishin të shkatërruara. Plotësuam një formular në internet për bagazhet e humbura.

Një javë më vonë, pavarësisht thirrjeve të përditshme në linjën e ndihmës për bagazhet e humbura të Aer Lingus, nuk kishte ende asnjë shenjë të çantës, por kishte një regjistrim të mbërritjes së saj në Gatwick.

Çdo ditë torturoja veten teksa kujtoja çfarë kisha paketuar në atë valixhe.

për qind e çantave të humbura nuk kthehen kurrë. Këtë vit shifra do të jetë shumë më e lartë. A do të ishte valixhja ime në këtë grup dhe që më pas siç zakonisht procedohet, do ta nxirrnin në ankand në një varrezë të bagazheve të humbura?

I also went to that cemetery and there were 40 suitcases. Some of them still had the contacts and names of the owners. I wanted to call them and tell them: I found your suitcase. I thought that maybe the company called them themselves, but the owners of these suitcases must have given up on their own.

As for my lost bag…surprisingly it turned up. Not at auction, but unannounced on the doorstep, ten days after our nightmare flight.

I heard a knock on the door and there he was, in the arms of a courier. I was so pleased that I almost hugged him. Where had he been?

The agony of losing a suitcase and the confession of a journalist victim of

I happily unzipped, happy to be looking at my clothes after 10 days.