Don’t Stop Believing (Your Luggage Will Show Up Eventually)

Jan 6

5 min read

December 23, 2025 began the way all great holiday travel stories do: with an Uber bill that makes you briefly question every life decision you’ve ever made. Ninety-five dollars later, we rolled from our home in Oceanside to San Diego International Airport, arriving a heroic three hours early because nothing says seasoned travelers like being wildly overprepared.

Armed with CLEAR and TSA Precheck, we strutted toward security like airport royalty. We expected chaos, delays, maybe a rogue TSA agent confiscating a tube of toothpaste. Instead? Nothing. We sailed through so smoothly it was suspicious.

Clearly, the travel gods were lulling us into a false sense of confidence.

The Lounge Where Miracles (and Bluetooth Failures) Happen

With three full hours to kill, we did what any responsible adults would do: ignored our gate completely and headed straight to the lounge to eat and drink like our flight was leaving tomorrow.

Upon presenting our Priority Pass, a six-foot-tall, blonde-haired young man staggered out of the lounge like he’d just gone twelve rounds with the bar.

“Excuse me,” he slurred politely, “I am not walking so good… and I got a plane to catch.”

At that exact moment, we knew we were in the right place.

Inside, we sat across from a young couple in their late twenties. She was from Utah. He was from Oregon. They both lived in San Diego. She was happily online shopping and planning a birthday party for at least 100 people paid for in cash, because nothing says celebration like financial optimism.

He, meanwhile, was trying to convince her to move back to Oregon, where they were headed so she could meet his parents for the first time. Unfortunately for him, this pitch was… not going well. He somehow managed to describe Oregon in a way that made it sound damp, gray, and emotionally confusing. I quietly thought he might have had better luck if he’d just stopped talking and let the state fend for itself.

When Bluetooth Attacks

While they negotiated their future, my wife was engaged in a much more serious battle: pairing her earbuds to her phone.

She tapped.

She scrolled.

She frowned.

Then, over the lounge loudspeaker:

“You are paired.”

Suddenly, Christmas music blasted through the entire lounge.

That’s when we realized—so did everyone else that the Christmas music was coming from my wife’s phone.

What had been a noisy food-and-bar scene instantly transformed into a full-blown holiday miracle. Because it was the day before Christmas Eve, nobody complained. Instead, people started singing. Actual singing. Strangers, united by Mariah Carey and Bluetooth failure.

The guy from Oregon locked eyes with my wife.

“Hey… can you play Don’t Stop Believing by Journey?”

She could.

And she did.

Within seconds, all four of us were singing at full volume like we were headlining an airport concert tour. It was magical. It was chaotic. It was deeply confusing for airport staff.

That’s when my wife realized she had no idea how this happened—and became both terrified and mortified. The Oregon guy looked equally stunned, like he’d accidentally unlocked a hidden level of human connection.

Before parting ways, we shared one of our favorite taco spots in Oceanside and Carlsbad SHOOTS and even floated the idea of meeting up after the holidays.

Because nothing bonds strangers faster than Journey and unintended public performances.

Flying Cigars and Broken Seating Arrangements

We boarded our United flight and eventually landed at Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C., with about a one-hour layover. From there, we hopped on our final flight to Albany aboard what can only be described as a flying cigar.

Two seats on one side.

One seat on the other.

Zero room for romance.

This was the only flight where my wife and I got to sit together. Apparently, United had decided the honeymoon was officially over.

Baggage Claim: Where Hope Goes to Die

Upon landing in Albany, we headed to baggage claim carousel number three.

Bags appeared quickly. Efficiently.

I spotted mine almost immediately.

My wife did not.

Even though the United app confidently claimed both bags had arrived, hers was nowhere to be found. As we waited, I couldn’t help but think back to the lounge:

🎶 Don’t stop believing… 🎶

Sadly, the baggage gods had not been singing along.

A baggage concierge with a thick New York accent delivered the news: my wife’s bag had been removed from the plane due to balancing issues.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said cheerfully. “Last time this happened, it took 24 to 48 hours. Just sayin’. Merry Christmas.”

She might as well have put on a green suit and stolen Christmas right there at carousel three.

The Pro Tip Airlines Never Tell You

All of my wife’s clothes.

All her belongings.

Gone.

United assured us the bag would be delivered to Saratoga Springs once it arrived. Comforting but not immediately useful.

What they didn’t tell us is the important part:

Airlines are required to reimburse passengers for reasonable, documented expenses when bags are delayed, damaged, or lost.

That means if your clothes are currently enjoying their own vacation, you are allowed encouraged to buy replacements.

What You Need to Know:

Report the bag immediately before leaving the airport
Complete the paperwork and keep copies
Save every receipt (toiletries, clothing, essentials)
Submit claims promptly, usually within 21 days of the bag’s return

For U.S. domestic travel, reimbursement is capped at roughly $3,800 per passenger, per bag (as of late 2024). International flights follow different rules under treaties like the Montreal Convention because nothing says “holiday cheer” like aviation law.

🎶 Don’t stop believing… and always keep your receipts. 🎶

The Great SUV Betrayal

From there, we headed to Alamo Rental Car, where we’d responsibly prepaid for a premium 4x4 SUV because snow, ice, and New York.

Just as we were about to receive the keys, the attendant asked:

“You’re not planning on leaving the country or going to Canada, are you?”

My wife, pure of heart and incapable of lying:

“Yes! We’re going dog sledding in Mont Tremblant, Quebec.”

He froze.

Apparently, Alamo does not allow their SUVs to cross into Canada due to a gang of criminals stealing them. However great news they had a minivan available.

So instead of a rugged SUV, we accepted the keys to a Honda Odyssey.