Lost

My dear, strong, perfect, beloved bike never made it back to me at the airport in Chicago. At 1am, two hours after landing and waiting, I had to give up. I called the airline but they told me I have to make a claim at the airport. Everyone from the airline had gone home for the night. It's the next morning and I'm on my way back to O'Hare, hoping for the best, imagining the worst.

Where are you, Ice Dragon? Forgotten in a corner of Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris? Abandoned and alone in Iceland during the connecting flight? I can't believe we came all this way only for this to happen at the end.Baca lagi