The emptying carousel continued to turn. And it turned for a while after it was empty. It was as though my bag which hadn't yet come through might suddenly be placed on it so it – the carousel – had to keep turning just in case.
But finally it stopped and about then, or even a little before, I came to accept that, yes, my luggage not only had not come through but was not going to come through. Somewhere my baggage was lost. This despite an unsolicited promise at the previous transit airport that it had been put on this plane.
So I was in Amman and due to continue to Cairo in about 12 hours and my baggage was presumably in Amsterdam [last stop] or somewhere else entirely. Definitely the latter if you believe those myths about lost luggage and the perverted humour of some airline employees.
It seemed I had the choice of waiting for it in Amman or continuing on to Cairo. This I debated for a little while until I was told I had to go on to Cairo as there were no seats on later flights. My bag could follow me to Cairo just as soon as it arrived from Amsterdam [or wherever it was].
The evening of the day I arrived in Cairo I contacted the airport to be told that my baggage was due on flight RJ152 to Amman and from there would probably get to Cairo some time the next day. They'd ring me at my hotel.
That seemed fine but seeking certainty – or solace - I also checked the online baggage claim the airline runs. It said “still tracing, check back later”which I interpreted as being the same advice as I'd been given on the phone. I'd never checked online for lost baggage before.
The following morning I decided that my strategy should be to wait for the airline to ring me. I'd use the time to determine a deadline after which I'd have to buy replacement gear. My situation was complicated as I was travelling on to yet another town the next day. If I needed to buy replacement gear I should not do it too early but neither could I leave it too late. So when to go out and buy, what to buy and where to buy it were going to the big questions I'd grapple with while waiting for the call.
However because I could and because it was so easy I decided to check on-line first. After all if my baggage had got to Amman or was even on its way there, the message would reflect that, I thought
But the message said “still tracing, check back later”. The fact that there was absolutely no change to the message and that they were “still tracing” rather shook my confidence. Last night the call to the airport was much more definite.
I threw out my morning strategy and decided to ring the airport ...
Yes they said, your baggage is here but is about to be sent to Amman. Where are you? I'm in Cairo I said and the baggage is in Cairo can you hold it and can I come out to the airport to collect it? Yes, he said I'll do that.
This was not the time to discuss websites and last night's promise of a phone call.
So I organised a taxi and off I went thinking that I'd be back within not much more than an hour or so as the trip to the airport was a little over 30 minutes each way.
Hall number 1, Cairo airport, Royal Jordanian baggage services. Easy enough I thought as I checked at the information centre in Hall number 1, they'll point me in the right direction. But no they'd never heard of it. In the face of my persistence - after all I'd spoken from someone there less than an 30 minutes ago - they said try upstairs.
So off I went but spied an Egyptian Air counter. Now in my mind there was some connection between Egyptian Air and Royal Jordanian so I decided to ask there. They gave me directions which included heading for a set of stairs directly opposite the information centre! Down those stairs I had to go, past a man with a gun who pointed me to an office marked Egyptian Air and seemed to indicate that that was Royal Jordanian as well.
Take a number I was told as soon as I walked in. But is this Royal Jordanian baggage services? Yes. So I dutifully took a ticket and immediately my number flashed up on a screen on the counter of the man to whom I'd just spoken. Over I walked thinking he'd be the one to serve me but he indicated I should go to the man sitting next to him.
This second man examined the printout of my claim, wrote a new file number on it – the number they would use in the baggage room he said - returned that to me but then asked for my passport, details of which he put on another form which he kept with my passport.
You'll also have to pay 10 Egyptian pounds to the policeman in the baggage room he said. Which I thought was strange given it was not me who had lost the baggage. The purported reason was that Jordanian Air should pay it but they don't so the passenger would.
Sit down they said. Which again seemed strange as it seemed to me there should be nothing to do but collect my bag.
I waited for 10 or 15 minutes while two other customer groups were served and then asked why I had to wait.
The gentleman is coming to take you to the baggage room, I was told. He'll be here in 5 minutes. And sure enough about 10 minutes later a man walked in, collected my passport and said to me and two other people, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, to follow him. Before we set off, it was suggested I could pay the 10 pounds now but to the men who had been serving me [not the policeman in the baggage room].
I paid and followed our gentleman.
Up the stairs and into the main departure hall we went. Wait here for one minute he said and disappeared up the stairs and through a door which looked like a door into offices.
After about 10 minutes he returned with our passports in hand. Follow me, he said, and follow him we did. Up the same stairs he had been before, through the same door, and then down a long corridor around a few bends and into an area that was so remarkably different from the granite, tiled, air-conditioned departure hall that it was like walking from the first world to the third in several Alice-in-wonderland like steps.
This area was ill-kempt, not air-conditioned, had people squeezed into offices, handling bits and pieces of paper. Very few computers. Some were wandering around with cups of tea, others staring vacantly. This was not high tech airport management territory.
Along the corridor we went and waited as our passports were examined by a friendly lady in a white uniform. She signed bits of paper and handed them to our escort. And off we went back down the corridor.
But we stopped at a window where the same procedure occurred, only we weren't able to witness what bit of paperwork was done. Here we waited about 10 minutes but in due course our passports were handed back.
And we reversed direction this time, to a third window along. There were seats for us all here. Though our escort sat outside the window and we waited around the corner. He handed our passports through a window and again we waited. And again it felt like 10 minutes until our passports came back through that widow.
And off we went, reversing our direction completely so we returned to the main departure hall where we had sat some 20 – 30 minutes before. This time though we continued on to a secure area where we passed a gauntlet of guards and went into the back of the airport passing, I realised, the back end of those baggage carousels we are all so familiar with.
Out we went and continued on for a few hundred metres. We were nearly onto the tarmac before we turned left into very nondescript room full of baggage. Promising I thought as I got ready to show someone my bit of paper with the new file number on it. However one of the workers just pointed me to several shelves and asked if I could see my bag. I looked up and down the rows and then down and up again. No sign of my bag. Why had I been given a file number and why it wasn't being used I thought despondently.
One of the workers came to my rescue and said perhaps you'd like to look at this area and pointed to some bags quite some distance away. Over I went and there much to my rather pleasant surprise was my bag.
But it wasn't just a matter of collecting it and going. Various bits of paper had to be matched with other bits of paper [but not that one with the file number on it], the bags all put on a trolley and we then reversed direction into the departure hall – almost.
We had of course to get through customs. Again various bits of paper had to be matched with other bits of paper and then the customs person asked us all to open our bags. With just the three of us and about six customs officers otherwise doing nothing I thought we were in for a full inspection. But no, haven taken a rather perfunctory look at the top layers of our cases they indicated we could go.
Yes! finally..Nearly 2 hours after arrival, 10 Egyptian pounds poorer, I had my bag. And yes! the taxi driver was still there waiting for me!
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