Last days.

The last day, for those of you who are following along at home, was supposed to be Tuesday. We pushed our flight back from Monday morning to Tuesday because (1) our arriving flight was delayed and (2) I thought I pre-booked and paid for a hotel room through and including Monday night. I did not.

At this point it is Sunday. We both have the flu and I have a horrendous, up all night, are-you-sure-it’s-not-the-plague cough. Sports Fan is ready to smother me with the nice pillows at our Hotel in Dublin, Take II. The drugstores in Ireland do not have aisles and aisles of choices. Basically if your are sick, here is some medicine. It is orange. They did have Sudafed, but I didn’t trust it. Mainly because it DID NOT WORK.

We dragged ourselves out of bed because we just HAD to go to the Guinness Factory. Like, duh. We also needed breakfast, the only edible meal in the country. We ate at Lemon Crepe & Coffee Co. every morning in Dublin. It had the best French Toast. They have a bunch of locations.  Then we went to the Guinness Factory, forced ourselves to walk around, drank half a pint each and dragged our sorry asses back to bed. All the while determining whether we would fly home a day early.

Answer: YES. FOR THE LOVE OF UNITED STATES ANTIBIOTICS.

I was convinced, CONVINCED, I could get the Flying Assholes to change our flight without the hefty change fees. Well. I don’t call them the Flying Assholes for nothing.  You know, other than the fact that our luggage has been lost for A BLOODY MONTH.  I begged. I argued. (And I’m a hard bargainer.) I explained in great detail all of the hardship that Aer Lingus was causing me. NO LUCK.

We decided to do it anyway. We were really just going to spend the rest of the time in bed, coughing, sleeping, irritating the living daylights out of each other. As nice as the Hotel bed was at Hotel II (The Shelbourne, Dublin), we wanted to gooooo hooooome.

We get to the airport nice and early Monday to check in and ask about our luggage. OMG. Worst customer service ever. We had to wait in 2 lines because they didn’t charge us the right amount. The amount I didn’t think we should be charged at all. The lady who was checking us out had on, literally, gallons of make-up. I thought she may have lived with a carpenter and accidentally used Spackle for foundation that morning. Or else she wants to be  a drag queen but is held back by the fact that she is, indeed, female. I was so sick and tired I just couldn’t muster up any fight. I paid the fees.

THEN! They herded us into the tiniest waiting area (post-US-customs, which was nice) that could have ever existed. Seriously, it must have been fit for 75 people but holding 200+. We were all sitting on the floor, standing back to back, the most insane thing I had ever seen. Like the pit at the U2 concert. But an AIRPORT.

I was NOT f’ing around on the way home. With my flu, cough from hell and various other nasty symptoms, I was going to sleep. I took me some Ambien. Apparently I looked really knocked out because the Flight Attendants asked Sports Fan if I was okay. I tried to drink water through my forehead by repeatedly bringing the water bottle up to my head and hitting my forehead. Nice.

We went straight from the airport to the Doctor’s office. And got Z-packs.  And “here, this will make you feel better, too” medicine. I love my doctor.

So it is almost a month later and still no luggage. STILL NO LUGGAGE. I am working on getting claims settled for a fraction of what we actually lost.

Good times.  Phew. I hope I never have to tell this story again.