I Much Ado About Luggage

"We need to locate the source of the gassy smell", the airline employee eyed us suspiciously as she hurried to call her boss.  The nice boss lady determined that one of our suitcases had a small wet spot and smelled of gasoline.  She said we couldn't take the gassy suitcase on the plane, but assured us it wouldn't be a problem and produced a new suitcase which she said we could borrow for our trip.  We quickly transferred our belongings, amazed and encouraged by this painless solution to what looked at first like a huge problem.

"You'll have to pay extra and check these two bags.  They're too big to carry on."  The helpful manager lady had somehow disappeared while we were repacking and now we were faced with a very unfriendly man.  I had to show him repeatedly how our carry-on luggage did, in fact, just barely fit into the measuring box.  He finally walked away muttering under his breath, and we proceeded to the security checkpoint.

All seemed to be well as we chatted happily with some fellow passengers at the gate, but at the last minute I noticed  the nasty man (looking smug) and the nice lady (looking concerned)  beckoning me to approach them.  I guess they didn't want the other passengers to hear our conversation.  They said I couldn't take my stuff on the plane, even in the borrowed suitcase.  They suggested I go without my belongings.  At this point I started to blubber incoherently about wedding crowns, tears streaming down my face.  

I had to go home and repack in a third suitcase and take a separate flight from Fr. Peter, but we did all get there in the end, including the wedding crowns.