Brian's NYC

Have you ever left something on an airplane? Like in the little pocket in the back of the seat in front of you? I’m not talking like a water bottle that scrunches up from the pressure change, a balled up napkin with some gum spit into it, or a copy of Cosmo you didn’t get the chance to read because you were too busy pretending not to watch “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Twice.

I’m talking something more valuable, like, oh, say an IPOD. ‘Cause that’s definitely what I did after flying on Air Berlin to Paris from Munich. Woops. And I didn’t notice that I left it on the plane until the next morning when we boarded a plane to head back to New York and I couldn’t find the gadget in my bag.

I was sad. And angry. At myself.

Nic was amazing and while I just sort of gave up because, let’s face it, an iPod is one thing you don’t expect to get back after leaving it, well, anywhere, he emailed the airline and got some contact info for the Lost & Found department at the Paris Orly airport. Apparently anything found left behind on planes are turned in and held for one week at the office, and who knows what happens to them after that. So I called. I failed. I couldn’t figure out how to make an international phone call (even though I had just traveled internationally for a week!). Thanks to Dad, I finally was able to get a hold of someone at Lost & Found, and guess what…

…they had my iPod. WHAT?! This sort of thing doesn’t happen. To anyone. Let alone to me. I’m the guy who is always sitting behind someone who reclines their seat for the entire flight, and who sits behind someone with a cold who is coughing and sneezing on me constantly. I’m the guy who is always randomly selected to have a full cavity inspection while going through security, and whose bag is always the last to come off the plane (if it’s not lost entirely). So you can bet when the lady said, “Monsieur, you are very lucky, we have your iPod,” I believed her.

She said she would hold it for me, to which I said, “Yeeeeah, can you send it to the U.S. for me?” She said she could only send it to New York on a flight with L’Avion airlines (“Perfect! That’s where I live!”), and that I could pick it up at the baggage claim in Terminal B at the Newark Airport at 8:40 that night (I didn’t tell her that Newark was actually in New Jersey, not New York, and yes that makes a HUGE difference in my patience level, I was just happy to be getting my iPod back!). I hung up, elated, and then immediately realized I had absolutely no idea what to do or where to go once I got to the baggage claim that evening. Not knowing if my iPod would just be waiting on the turnstile for me when I arrived, or if I had to say the magic word at an office (although I narrowed those passwords down to “please, now, Sarah Palin, and poop.”), I decided to call the airport to get some more info. I found out after calling the main operator that L’Avion doesn’t have a baggage claim office in the airport, and she had no idea what I should do and how I would get my iPod back. Grrrreeat.

I’d like to interrupt here to say that ‘L’Avion’ means ‘the plane’ in French. So L’Avion Airlines means ‘The Plane Airlines.’ A little redundant, no?

So then, slightly started to freak out, I called the main 1-800 number for L’Avion Airlines. Well, not only did I thoroughly not enjoy their muzak (which was more like static mixed with a baby screaming mixed with the reggae I listen to at 8AM outside my window every Sunday morning), but the jem of an operator who absolutely LOVED her job told me that L’Avion airlines absolutely does not send parcels on their flights for non-passengers. So now I feel severely lead-on and even less convinced that I am going to get my iPod back than I was when I first discovered it was missing. Having tried getting back in touch with the Mademoiselle from the Lost & Found, to no avail, I decided to bite the bullet and head out to Newark airport in search of my music.

Did I mention it was a limited edition U2 iPod?

After taking the subway to Penn Station, where I took a train to the AirTrain, which took me to Terminal B (it’s not very cute), I wandered around looking for my iPod. It didn’t help that I was 30 minutes early for the arrival of the alleged flight that my alleged iPod was allegedly on. Allegedly. So I bounced around from employee to employee, to information kiosk to employee. I even asked the people at the Starbucks. They didn’t know anything about my missing iPod. I ended up in the L’Avion lounge, where a sweet, 19-something French girl told me she was only responsible for checking people’s tickets who come into the lounge. She also told me that I may have better luck at the check-in counter two floors up. And that because I didn’t have a ticket, I had to leave. Back up the ugly escalators I went to the Level 4, where I patiently waited my turn amongst passengers on the next L’Avion flight. When I finally got up to the counter, here was the convo I had:Me: “Hi, um, I have a really weird question. I am expecting something from the Lost & Found at the Paris Orly airport on one of your flights, and…”

L’Avion Dude: “Oh, is it a box?”

Me: “Um, I think so. I mean, yes.”

L’Avion Dude: “Yeah, the flight’s not here yet, and they have to check the box through customs, so it’ll be a while.

Having felt like I found the fountain of youth, the cure for cancer, Britney’s sanity, or Lindsay’s heterosexuality, I was clearly elated and didn’t mind waiting. An hour and a half later I returned to the ticketing counter, and was handed a surprisingly large shipping box. I shuffled over to the nearest trashcan, removed the contents of the box (a large manila envelope, packed securely into the box with, you guessed it, toilet paper) and attempted for 5 minutes to stuff the box through the tiny hole in the top of the trashcan (probably the most painstaking part of this whole story). Inside the manila envelope was a smaller envelope, and inside that smaller envelope was, yep, MY IPOD, totally unscathed, and practically fully charged, right in the middle of “A Way Back To Then” from [title of show], the last song I was listening to!

I feel like I have been hit with some ridiculous piece of good karma. I always let people go through the door before I do, pick things up for people they drop, give excess change back to cashiers when they give me too much back, and things like that which are supposed to bring you good karma somewhere down the road. I think I cashed it in at the Newark Airport. I also feel like I need to send thank you cards and emails to Air Berlin, L’Avion, and the Mademoiselle at the Paris Orly Airport every day until I die.

And you should know, I listened to music on my iPod the entire time I was typing this.