You've Heard of Stone Soup? How 'Bout Stone Outfit?

Next morning, no bag. Time to throw something together. Rekha has some things that would fit me. She gives me several options. My first concern is warmth; that's how you know I'm not in my twenties anymore. I don't even care how the outfit is put together. I reject this sleeveless blouse, and that sleeveless dress, and opt for a black clingy skirt that sways, a black turtleneck sweater, and black cotton tights. This will be paired with the shoes I have on, which are red Dansko clogs. To add a splash of color, I will wear the cardigan I have on, which is green. How Christmas-y! I find a multicolored scarf that has gold woven into it for dramatic flair.

As we are getting into the car to drive to the wedding, my phone rings. "Yes, this is American Airlines courier service. We'd like to verify an address for delivery." I tell the man on the phone to shove my garment bag up his ass. Not really, just in my head. What I really say is, "Actually, it's too late, because what I needed in the bag I no longer need. Please take my bag back to the airport, 'cause I'm leaving tomorrow anyway." He says he will.

At the wedding, I am very self conscious, a feeling I am not used to. The tights have never been worn and are slightly big, so the heel rides up on my legs a little. From my head down to my torso I feel like a librarian. Then a flamenco dancer at the waist, and then an old lady at the legs and feet. For once, I do not want my picture taken.

Everyone is so nice at the wedding. Several people say to me, "Oh, they found your luggage!" It makes me feel a little better. And lo and behold, I am warm. It is a beautiful wedding, a meaningful ceremony, good food, and lots of interesting people. A fun time is had by all.

As we're cleaning up, I check my phone for messages. I've received three, from the American Airlines courier service, requesting address verification for delivery of my luggage. I pull a hissy fit and call AA twice to verify that my luggage will be at the airport tomorrow, not in some van. A nice lady assures me that all is taken care of.

And the next morning, I find that it is. I get my bag and get back on a plane. This time I do not check it. I will never check a bag again. Never did before this. I've learned my lesson.