Oh, Canada…our home and native land…

Well not exactly my home and native land, but there is something about being in Canada that makes me feel like I have just arrived home.

Maybe because back in 1996-97 I lived here under the Australian working holiday programme and had one of the two defining times in my life so far. 

Though I believe that Toronto Pearson Airport may have a bone to pick wiith me.  I havent even been that bad, but I always seem to have problems here.

Back in 1996 when I arrived for 12 months, they almost didn’t let me in the country.  My Uncle Walter waited for over an hour before I came out of customs… and thought I had missed my plane.  When I tried to leave back in 2004, American Airlines couldn’t find my ticket reservation at the check in counter and could only find my Mum's.  And today, Toronto Pearson wasn’t about to let me down…

It was very unlike me to have a bathroom stop immediately after a teeny 1 hour flight from New York, but today was going to be different.  I had a feeling… no not that kind of feeling, that I should go straight to the baggage counter.. but no, I did a stop off against my gut feeling along the way.

Number 1’s this time was a BIG MISTAKE.

I waited and waited for one of the cubicles to be free, and I knew… I just knew I should hold it and wait… but I had to go to the car rental place straight from Customs and the 77kms to Oshawa would have pushed the boundary of being comfortable.

I hate public bathrooms… you won't find me pointing out the best public bathrooms in any city a.k.a George Costanza from Seinfeld – because if it’s public it’s a no-go Schilo zone.

So after breaking my own rule, I hot foot it over to the baggage claim.  I see that most of the baggage had been collected.  Mmm not good, but I see my Victoria Secret PINK bag coming round the bend.  I grab it.  I wait for my large shiny polycarbonate unmistakable suitcase to show, and as there are no bags left on the belt, I spot a smaller, similar but very different shiny bag coming my way. Mmmm that looks a lot smaller than mine for sure... oh... no....

Oh yes, you go it, someone took my luggage… awesome. So I grabbed the wrong case and took it off the belt.

Now, I purposefully took one of the earliest flights out of New York just incase I had a delay – because I have a vey special birthday to get to in the evening that I can not miss.  Lucky it's only 9am, I have plenty of time.  This actually puts me in a tolerable patient mood instead of an impatient, intolerable one that comes with time pressure.

Off I go to the service desk right by the baggage claim and made my own claim about someone taking my luggage. Judging by the weight and size of the bag left behind, the person who took it must have had a dog and/or long white cane in hand… because my bag was twice as big and twice as heavy.  I did have a chuckle to myself, because all I had in that case was makeup, my 5 inch heel boots and t-shirts.  No pants. The thought of someone all dolled up, heels, white cane with no pants on certainly would have been humerous.

So the guy at the service counter tells me that someone has collected my bag and it’s now on the belt to be loaded to Ottawa.  Oh awesome.  Perfect.  Ottawa.  That’s a 5 hour drive away.  I tell the guy that my bag is only tagged to Toronto, and he said that he was sorry but the bag was in the system and it can take 7-8 hours for bags to fall out the other side.  well I can tell you, that I’m about to fall out the other side.  But! I decide to smile because the up side was that I could go shopping for more clothes, make up and heels.  Yes that’s a big upside… Yorkdale here I come!

So I fill out all my details and its now 9.30am, have called everyone I can to tell them of my plight and off I head to the car rental place.  I have every intention of stopping off at Yorkdale Shopping Centre, but before I could say “Charge it to my credit card” I receive a call form my cousin Jen that the baggage claim people had called to say they had found my bag.  DAMN IT.   Just when I was getting excited.

They had to call Jen of course, because they needed a local number for my claim form.  Strange isn’t it, that they would not accept an American number… “No No must be a local number” Gees people, because it makes total sense that everyone walking off a plane in Toronto already has a local telephone number with them.  NOT!

Oh Canada, I am still smiling as I load my other bags into the trunk of the car and head back into Terminal 3. 

At the airport, it’s so easy to walk out of customs, however I dare you to try walk back through the wrong way and see how you go.  Essentially what happens is that the minute you cross over that point you are either in or out of the country.  Right now I was in Canada… but my suitcase was in the US.  So you guessed it, I had to go back through customs escorted by two men and collect my displaced bag, was stamped out of Canada, stamped back into the US, and back into Canada again. 

Sounds just like me in fine form coming, going back and forth to Canada over the past 13 years… but will I stay this time or will I go?