Where is the Purple Suitcase?!
Lesson learned at the Great Diamond Cove ferry dock
To hear the related 5-minute audio file that I uploaded today as my Morning Journal flash briefing for Alexa devices, please click on the play button:
Pro Tip for Travelers of a Certain Age
At 73, I should know better.
For the past year I have lived by a rule: Never move without counting your stuff.
For example, when I migrate from Sanibel to Maine I bring four things—fanny pack, knapsack, Tumi carry-on, and iPhone.
So each time I move from A to B at RSW, the Fort Myers airport, I mentally count to four as I touch the items I might forget. Leaving Starbucks for the gate? 1-2-3-4. Ditto for leaving the gate for boarding: 1-2-3-4.
At the Great Diamond Island ferry dock yesterday, I was sitting on a bench next to a lobster trap. My grandsons Ryan and Jake were standing in just the right spot for a photo of the fast-approaching ferry.
I did not count to four when I left the bench to take the photo, which BTW turned out pretty well:
Once the ferry docked, things happened fast.
A crew member slid a heavy walkway from the boat to the dock. Departing passengers walked over it. Then came their luggage on carts.
Moments before our turn to board, I realized I didn’t have the purple suitcase.
The ferry would leave in two minutes.
I scanned memory in panic mode. My brain had tagged its top image of the suitcase “golf cart.” I could see myself riding in the front passenger seat of hotel’s cart, the purple suitcase on my lap. An Inn at Diamond Cove staffer named Sarah had driven us to the ferry, a scenic ride of about 10 minutes.
As I rushed back to where several golf carts were lined up, I spotted Aiden, another employee of the inn. I told him I seemed to have left our suitcase in the cart.
“Can you call Sarah?” I asked.
Nope. Cell coverage on the island is thin.
“Why would she have driven it back to the inn with my suitcase?” I demanded. “What the hell was she thinking?”
I am not proud of those questions and will be making amends to Aiden and Sarah later today.
Before I uttered more regrettable words, Darlene remembered seeing the purple suitcase next to me when I had been sitting next to the lobster trap.
She fetched it. I scampered back to join her and the boys just before the ferry’s crew withdrew the ramp. Whew!
I feel grateful for this timely refresher in mindful travel.
A week from today Darlene, her sister Deb, and I will fly to Nice, France, for a three-week journey to Lyon, Aix-en-Provence, Cagnes-sur-Mer and then back to Nice. We will be joined for the final two weeks by our good Maine friends Marie and Pam.
The purple suitcase will not be part of our luggage in France.
I hope the image of it will prompt me many times to stop and count my stuff:
un, deux, trois, quatre.