There were twelve of us. We were taking a two-day class. The was the second day. The class was being held in a business annex in an airport. As part of the class, we’d been writing a paper about what we learned. Everyone else was leaving. I was still writing my paper.
I was distracted because I was hungry and I was getting ready to go home. I’d been away for a while. Knowing I was the only one remaining in the class, the instructor began packing up and turning off lights. Other instructors, teaching other classes, came in to have an end of week celebration before they headed out.
I needed to check in for my flight so I sought the instructor to ask permission to send it in later. Not finding him, I packed my laptop and gear and rushed out.
The airport was hectic and unfamiliar. I was struggling to find my way. I briefly set my briefcase with my laptop in it. In a flash, someone picked it up and walked off with it. I was shocked, horrified, sick to my stomach. I tried finding that person so I could get my bag back, especially my laptop. I’ve had a laptop for decades. They help define who I am. Also, I realized, I wouldn’t finish the paper. My notes and the text book were in the bag. So was my plane ticket and wallet!
Distraught, I went back to the classroom. About a dozen instructors were milling in there. My instructor was in the back. I tried speaking but couldn’t. One male instructor noticed me and told the others, saying, “He’s upset. He has something to say.”
They fell quiet to hear me. He encouraged me to speak. I began but started losing it. Reining in emotions, I began again, telling them what had happened. They expressed sympathy and concern. Meanwhile, I bent and saw my briefcase sitting on the floor beside me. Picking it up, I discovered everything I thought was stolen was in it.
I was floored. I’d been carrying that thing around. I’d looked in it before. I was certain everything was gone, yet, I’d had it all along.
Michael Seidel, writer 