Luggage Karma Kicks Us in the Behind

We had seven things we were worried about on the trip to Rome:
1. The gate agent at USAir in Philadelphia would tell us we couldn't check our bags through to Rome.
2. The flight from Philadelphia to Boston would be late or cancelled.
3. We wouldn't make our connection in Boston.
4. We wouldn't make our connection in Dublin.
5. We would lose our bags in Rome.
6. We would get robbed on the way to our hotel in Rome.
7. Our hotel in Rome wouldn't have our reservation.
I'm glad to say that we were seven for seven in these things not coming to pass. We are in Rome, happy, safe and very, very tired.
To go through the list:
1. The gate agent at USAir in Philadelphia was clearly a supervisor (she was interrupted by another gate agent in the middle of helping us, and helped her while not missing a beat getting our bags on the belt).
2. The flight to Philadelphia was uneventful, notwithstanding that the plane was, in a word, dirty.

3. Since the flight was early from Philadelphia, the fact that it took a long time to get through security at Logan wasn't a big deal. The guy at Logan took apart my computer bag bit by bit, though, telling me each reason why he had decided to search it. Funny, the same bag, same manner of packing, was looked at in both Philadelphia and Dublin and not a damn thing was done about it.
This is Marjorie in Logan awaiting the flight.

4. We got into Dublin an hour early, so early that there was no one in Dublin Airport capable of operating the jetway. Someone tried, though, and the damn thing broke. That meant that we had to go down a staircase. The plane wasn't entirely packed (we never had anyone in the seat on the other side of Marjorie on any of the three flight segments), but it did have a number of folks needing wheelchairs and the like. So all the time we'd gained in getting in early was lost in waiting to get off the plane. It was almost an hour after we touched down that we entered the terminal.
The terminal itself was a bit of a maze, and after we went through Irish immigration ("where are you going?" "Rome" :::Stamp::: :::Stamp::: "Have a nice trip."), we got somewhat lost. Also, our boarding pass, issued in Boston, listed us as being in Terminal C, only we were in Terminal A, so we had a long walk back from one terminal to the other. Thinking we had more time, we'd actually shopped in a Hughes & Hughes bookstore (figuring this might the last English bookstore before Gibraltar), and then had to leave that terminal for the other one. Didn't have to go through security more than the once, though. Had to show our passports, however, three times in the same hallway. There was nowhere to turn off in that hallway. Did they think we might have put the Imperius curse on the prior security guard?
5. I told Marjorie I thought we had a huge baggage karma deficit after her blue bag was the first off in Baltimore last week. And so it was. My new ultra blue bag came off relatively early, her green bag and my duffel soon thereafter, but I would estimate her blue duffel was the sixth from last bag off the plane.
6. Coming in from the airport to the city by train was weird. It's just 22 euros for the two of us, but we could have paid nothing, as no one checked our tickets. The trains are covered with the most elaborate graffiti (the word is Italian, yes?). There was this woman right in front of me trying to get on who looked like the kind who might have paid her fare in chickens, babushka and everything. She sat across from us, and three times during the train ride she got text messages on her cellphone. Shows just how wrong someone can be. But we never felt in danger on the train, despite all the warnings about pickpockets (see the bus description in the next entry, though). At Termini, there was a mass of humanity, and crossing the street was dangerous, but in fact the folks on the street were seeming to look out for us, and explained the rather unusual way the door to this building opens.
7. Which is like something out of science fiction. We pressed the button for the hotel (which is four rooms on the fourth floor of this building) and were immediately asked, "Are you Goldfarb?" "Yes." Suddenly, the door starts to open, all the way open. And you're inside perhaps the ugliest and least inviting building lobby imaginable, scaffolding and tarps everywhere, a staircase but the elevator itself is hard to see. I found it and realized it wouldn't take us both and our luggage, so I took a couple of bags and went up.
Upstairs was Tomaso, our hotel manager. What a sweet guy. He was about to suggest we go down for Marjorie and the rest of the bags when she arrived. He then spent about an hour in a small breakfast room next to our room (which was still being cleaned), showing us on the map where we would want to go in Rome, the bus lines that would get us back to the hotel, restaurants he recommended and for what meal, and other points of interest. He also made us some kickass espresso (the word is Italian, yes?) in a Lavazza maker. It took about two seconds to make and was simply wonderful (and necessary, given how tired we were). He then loaded us down with some snacks and things and we were shown our room. And Marjorie gave me the nicest compliment of all, since I had found the hotel and taken the responsibility to get us there: "You done good."

Off to the next blog.