My That is Missing

I was wrapped up in my reading on the flight.   As soon as we touch ground I need to jump on a three o’clock call.  I watched the city skyline parade by at a distance, in a way I hadn’t see in before with the now, nearly finished, colossal Zun tower, newly defining the progression.  Uncharacteristically I had a window seat and the distance between where we’re landing and the section of the city I just considered is off-putting.  It couldn’t be that close.  A giant could cover the distance in two or three strides. 

I’d had a brief conversation with the man beside me as only happens it seems when you’re in a business class seat.  Otherwise people are just too close and your every effort is to keep them at-bay with your personal space protected.  He is in construction and I’m not exactly sure that we’ll ever have a reason to chat again but I scan his wechat regardlss and wish him an amiable farewell.  It’s not until I get in the ugly cab queue and reach for my laptop to draw a charge for my phone that I realize I’ve left my laptop on the plane.  I see.  

Back up at the domestic arrivals the kid informs me of what I already know.  “You can’t go back in.”  “So where do I go?”  “Lost and found is around the corner.”  And, indeed it is.  I’ve seen it there for years and never known what it was.  I explain the situation and the pleasant young lady in the corner behind the counter confirms that I’ll need to wait for forty-five minutes while they bring it out.  “You know, I have a young girl who’s in a play tonight.  I can’t be late.”  She takes this in.  “If you’re lucky they’ll be here in thirty.”  I fill out a card, show my passport and ask the lady if I can charge my phone in the socket behind her, which she helps me to do. 

I decide to take a walk from one end of arrivals to the other.  “You like a taxi?”  I dismiss the touts and slowly, reluctantly, return to the counter and take a seat on a corner couch, behind a large cart full of left-luggage.  A woman has come in asking for a black bag.  The cleaning lady has a brown bag. “Did you find a black bag?”  "No.  Just the brown one." The lady is nervous and is calling people, over and over again.  Her identity card is in the bag.  I ask her if she wants a seat.  She does not.  

Two or three additional hard-luck stories stop in.  I lost this.  My that is missing.  Check if you found it?  I try my best to read my book but all I’m really doing is staring at the clock.  At the forty-five minute mark I look and then try to go back to my book but I can’t.  I go to stand outside.  Not long after, two young ladies who are dressed like boiler room engineers saunter up with a cart.  I spy my laptop.  "Thank you!”            

Inside I need to sign the form again.  The young lady asks me to enter the computer’s security code.  I can do this and she turns the laptop over to me.  Thank you, thank you, thank you and I’m out the door with my computer now zipped up in my bag and a hand in an empty pocket.  Turn back around.  They are still charging your phone behind the counter.  You’ll want that. 

Saturday, 11/11/17