There we were, along with a few other forlorn passengers, waiting at the emptied carousel. Some had experienced this before and headed grimly for the lost baggage room. We lined up behind them. Two had one, one had none, we were minus one, and the heavily-tattooed lady had no child seat for her baby. A person with body art can look madder than a person without.

Luckily, our essentials (laptops, cameras) were in carry-ons. Would we ever see the bag again? The efficient woman behind the desk assured us that when they found the bag, it would be delivered to our door.

Back home, we counted our blessings: we were back in California, steaks were on the menu and we didn’t have to go looking for hotel staff in order to obtain toilet paper and tissues with a mixture of sign language and charades. If we had lost the bag forever, the bright side was that we could go shop for clothes. But we had no toothbrushes.

Just now, six hours after we left the airport, a clatter and rumbling approached the front door. Who could it be but a family member’s friend bringing two go-karts and a canoe with paddles? Nah. That’s only what it sounded like.

It was our suitcase, presented with a flourish and a smile.

Thanks, Alaska Air. Your man also told us we left the overhead light on in the car, a mistake that left us with a dead battery in a different car not long ago.