I fully reclined my seat on a 12-hour flight. The pregnant woman behind me kept pushing it and complaining about legroom. I snapped, “If you want luxury, fly business class.”
As we landed, a flight attendant told me to check my bag.
Inside was a neon-pink baby onesie that said “I’m the boss now,” two cans of formula, and a beat-up stuffed giraffe. None of it was mine. My laptop, work papers, charger—even my insulin kit—were gone.
Panic set in. I’d grabbed the wrong identical black roller.
The name tag read Kavita Sharma – Seat 27D.
She was the pregnant woman behind me.
I rushed back to the gate and learned she hadn’t connected onward—this was her final stop. Meaning she had my bag… and could be anywhere.
Digging through hers, I found a baby shower invite. On the back: “Text Seema if you get lost!”
So I did.
“Hi, I think I accidentally took Kavita’s bag from a flight from Dubai to Toronto.”