i'm just not meant to have clothes...

i just got back from bahrain.
for a number of reasons this was a frustrating trip, but the main reason is that fucking british airways likes to lose my luggage. (maybe this is some sort of cosmic sign for me to shrug off some of the emotional baggage that i've collected.)
my flights to london and to bahrain were delayed because of the weather. this was a day or two before heathrow was shut down because it of the fog. i can't even imagine what it was like when they closed because while i was there it was pretty intense. we were in a holding pattern above london and you would have had no idea that there was a huge city underneath. the pilot pointed out the tips of three buildings poking out of the fog...they were skyscrapers from canairy warf (?), the financial district. that was all that was visible. and then when we landed the fog was so thick i couldn't even see the wing (which i was sitting above) until we had actually touched down.
so needless to say, i had to rush a little more than planned in heathrow to catch my connection to bahrain and my bag didn't make it. that would have been fine...normally i would have gotten my bag delivered to my house the next day. it's happened before and i usually carry a change of clothes in my carry on, so no big deal. well, then heathrow shut down. and when i spoke to the airport and airline, no one could even tell me if the bag was even in london. the last time it was scanned was at jfk. lovely.
after multiple visits to ba offices and the airport and calls a couple times a day to ba all over the place including dubai, i finally got my bag christmas morning...which we had to go pick up from the airport. they wouldn't deliver it. which was just enough time for me to put my mom's gift in a pretty box and put it under the tree and throw all my clothes in the washing machine and repack. i had arrived in bahrain on the 20th and got the bag on the 25th. i left bahrain the morning of the 27th. and while, normally i'd love an excuse to go shopping, i had a lot of meds in that bag that i didn't carry on with me because of the new liquids/cream laws that say that you can't carry more than a certain amount unless you can prove that you'll need to use the prescription while you're on the flight. well i didn't, but i did need it after i got off. so i had to go try to find replacements while i was there.
so i learned my lesson and carried on all my meds when returning to the us. and i came back with two bags instead of one because of the new clothes i *had* to buy and gifts from my mom. :)
and what does ba do? they lose my bag again. not the signifcantly smaller one with stuff i don't really care about in it, but the big one with all my important stuff. at the airport they told me it'd definately be in on the last flight. i call this morning and it's not. again, they can't even tell me where it is. how does the little bag make it and not the big one? that one would be more understandably misplaced.
all i have to say is that they better fucking deliver this bag when it comes in. i'm not going all the way to newark to pick it up. the bus ride to times square alone took two hours last night. so much for the newark EXPRESS.

please please please i want something to work out for me. so far lately everything has been far, far more complicated than it should be.

bahrain does funny things to my brain

i've had some very vivid dreams since i've come to bahrain...last night was possibly the goriest dream i've had in years.

i return to a rabbit farm in a wooded area with a group of people i don't know in my every day life, but knew in my dreams. most of the rabbits were slaughtered. some torn apart, others burned...none of them nice deaths. the ones that remained had some sort of disease and a cure made from the bone marrow of the dead ones. it was my job to debone the carcasses and crack open the bones to retrieve the marrow. and my brain went into quite a lot of detail regarding the process. and then there was a part where i had to dig up bodies in a graveyard, but that's where my memory of the dream gets fuzzy. nice, eh?