Copenhagen swallowed us exactly at 23.48, on Saturday night, when we firmly put our feet on the Danish airport’s grounds. Bille, son of my husband’s aunt, waited with his girlfriend Nadia in front of the international arrivals doors, trying to figure out how we look like. I have never seen Bille, although we were corresponding vividly few weeks before we made our trip to Danish capital via Facebook and Marcin’s last time in Copenhagen was perhaps 20 or so years ago. Nevertheless we have a vague idea who to look for as we could see our pictures via Facebook.
Even though it was August, the night was not warm and I started shivering almost immediately after leaving the plane. It was tiredness too perhaps, and excitement, as we were visiting another fascinating place.
I was waiting for our bag to arrive, getting a little anxious as I was almost sure that this pink bag was doing at list third round and our was still nowhere to be seen. I did not notice any new bags coming into the view and I started wondering if we lost it. I felt panic rising – I sent Marcin already to look for Bille and Nadia, as I wrongly assumed that picking up the bag will be a matter of seconds.
The queue to the lost baggage offices was rather great. I did not notice at first machine with tickets and I wasted about 10 minutes before understanding the system. It was logical and exactly the same as in the post office in the UK, but somehow my rising panic made me blind to obvious facts.
I made the biggest mistake I could with packing our bag – I put my contact lenses solution and other important stuff like my glasses into hold bag – the thought of sleeping in contact lenses immediately crossed my mind and my stupidly rising panic did not help at all. By the time I get to see someone to report our bag lost, I was close to tears thinking about stuff I put into the hold bag, which I would need tonight. I did not really care about my cloths, more about practical things and the fact that we were in Copenhagen in the middle of the night and looking for things could be tricky. How silly of me!
Firstly we were not alone, we were not in the middle of nowhere and I did not really possessed anything what you cannot replace. The people I was queuing to all spoke English and there was no immediate danger that anything could happen to us. But panic made me blind, made me forgot about anything apart from the bag.
When I was finally talking with the person from the lost baggage office, I could barely speak as the panic was dictating every word and gesture. And the lady I was trying to explain to what exactly happened calmly listened to me and close the whole annoying situation in one sentence: your bag is on the line 6. And there it was, all alone, doing countless rounds.
I was behaving in exactly the same manner when I had my first car accident – nothing really happened to anyone, the guy who hit me was all calm and very accommodating, and I was a madwomen, panicking so much and crying out of fear and shock. My second car accident was a small incident to which I reacted very calmly as I knew exactly what to do. There was no panic, just assessing situation and doing all the right things. So I guess I am the person who must experience things too much firstly, to be calm and behave normally when something unpleasant happened again.
Fortunately after giving us so much stress at the beginning (hmm, to be completely honest, I was the one who let my panic rise too high), Copenhagen rewarded us in the only way it could – with the memories we are going to treasure and left us with deep desire to come back for more.