Who needs luggage anyway?

Maersk airlines obviously must fancy worn underwear and cheap Swedish books, why else would they steal my luggage. After running like crazy trough the Copenhagen terminal A (I didn't even have time to buy salt licorice, that's how tight it was) we barely got on the plane on time just to nearly crash into evil British Airways plane while landing, or well we didn't actually land we had to go uuuup in the air again a few meters before crashing. The pilot didn't translate his Danish sarcasms about the English pilot in the other plane. Maybe it was just as good.

Anyways, our 4 bags never showed up. Only Steve got a jackpot and could arrive home with souvenirs and a happy smile. They said they would bring them over today. I'm preparing my battle to get 10 free trips from Maersk. Skada och värk, si señor. I actually have Cora's keys in my bag since my dad mysteriously "lost" my keys in Barcelona. Mierda.

Back at work. Everyone's amazed that I have a tan. There is serious pointing and "oh-my-godness-you-have-a-tan" going on. Next holiday in December. Shiiit.