A Lost Luggage

Lost luggage I was a little tired. The journey had been a long one and before I caught this flight I had been unexpectedly rushed by developments in the Head Office. Now they expected me to complete the negotiations for collaboration with the refinery in Singapore, so here I was on the plane trying to sort out my plans. I closed my eyes. My temples were throbbing with Pain and my efforts to sleep were in vain. Nevertheless, the rest did me good when it was disturbed by the soft pleasant voice of the air hostess. She had brought me a hot cup of coffee.

I took the cup and murmured my thanks. The young gentleman in the next seat also took his cup. I looked at him and perhaps the approval was there in my appraisal of him.

He was a pleasant-faced young man. almost boyish in his appearance. His voice broke into my thoughts:

“Are you not well, sir? Can I do anything for you?

“Just a bad headache. I never knew it could be so bad.

“Have you taken any medicines? Perhaps they may give you some relief from the pain.”

I explained to him that a problem of this nature was so unusual with me and that I had no medicines with me. At this, the young man, – his name I learned was Michael Swartz – opened his briefcase and gave me a pill. He was working with a pharmaceutical firm and therefore medicines were available with him. As the medicine calmed me down, we both chatted in a gentle, friendly way and discussed our personal histories and our professional ambitions. By the time we were preparing to land our relationship was on a well-established footing.

Michael offered to look after my luggage and took my briefcase from me while we waited for it to arrive. My reservations were made in Hotel Yangtse. It was a pleasant coincidence that Michael was also booked there. So I allowed him to do everything for me: collect my baggage and get it through the customs while I waited comfortably in the lounge.

In my room in Hotel Yangtse, I decided to have a bath and relax before the conference which was scheduled to be held later that evening. I opened my suitcase. Imagine my horror when right on top of the suitcase I found the name of my new found friend written in block capitals. I quickly looked through the suitcase. Nothing was familiar. The suitcase and my briefcase both had been switched, all my clothes and all my papers. I wondered what to do and then quickly I rang up the reception desk. There was no Mr. Michael Swartz. He had left for Bangkok with my luggage!