You’re probably wondering why my first blog post from my European adventure features me sitting on the ground of the Athens airport, obviously unshowered, waiting for Italian airlines to open their check in desk.
Well, because I just experienced a freaking miracle.
So it all started on Monday, May 22nd. But let’s fast forward about a week.
Bear with me.
Yesterday morning, Friday, May 27th, I was sitting at the port of Paros waiting for our ferry back to Athens when someone mentioned their lack of jackets for the more northern countries of Europe. Right then, it hit me. I hadn’t seen my own jacket since I didn’t even know when. I opened my suitcase, rifled through my stuff in the middle of the port to discover what I describe as the universe handing me a big fat “no.” I began racking my brain trying to think where I last had it. Retracing every step, trying to relive the last 5 days.
You see, this wasn’t just any jacket. This was my jacket. The one I’ve had since I was about 17. We’ve been through a lot with each other. Anyone who knows me knows this jacket. It’s coveted.
Returning to Athens for the night, I wanted to leave no stone unturned. I checked with our hotel to make sure I hadn’t left it the days before. No luck. Which lead to the previous major location on my extravaganza journey. My flight from Philadelphia to Athens.
Disgracefully, I asked my mom to call American Airlines to see if they had it. I was expecting her to be annoyed, but being the loving mother she is, said she would help me out. But considering my flight had occurred 5 days ago, I was probably, in her words, “sol.” Her quest resulted in the discover that, Athens is one of the few countries that does not participate in American Airlines’s claim system. Naturally.
So as we arrived back at the Athens airport for our flight to Rome, my mission was to check with the American Airlines ticket desk. For a jacket I lost almost a week earlier. The lady at the counter gave me a pitiful look but said she would be back in a few moments.
I began to pray to Saint Anthony. Hoping for the discovery of something once lost.
After a while, she returned. Through the frosted glass, I could see the faint outline of what she was holding. Army green with black leather sleeves. My jacket. In that moment, my heart sank in the best possible way.
As I returned to my travel group, I danced around and waved my jacket in the air. There were cheers and words of shock, as everyone knew how great I felt in that moment. Pure bliss. A freaking miracle. Especially considering these kinds of things don’t happen to me. I don’t get lucky like this.
Okay, so cool, I found a jacket. No matter the emotional worth it has to me, it is just a jacket, after all. Though, this experience meant much more to me than the return of an item of clothing.
It was just the simple reminder that little miracles do happen. Prayer does work. International airlines don’t always lose your luggage. Sometimes they find them under your seat and save them for a week.