What a clusterfuck. Since my PHX-DCA flight was direct and terminated in DC, there was no way for them to lose my luggage. (It was, of course, quite unable to follow me to my connecting flight in Paris. Fucking Charles de Gaulle fucking airport).
So instead, because I always have to trade something for a safe flight and a beautifully behaved baby, we arrived after the rental car place had closed. I got a taxi to my corporate housing, where they were supposed to leave a key under the mat for me. No key. After many calls and discussion, it became clear that they couldn't do anything. No lockout services.
It's now 2:00 am. Mallory is asleep inside my big suitcase with clothes piled over him.
I try calling nearby hotels, but at this point my crappy laptop goes dead.
I strap the laptop over my shoulder and scale the outside of the building, getting to the balcony of my apartment. The lights are on inside, the table is set, I can hear the radio...and I CAN SEE THE FUCKING KEYS ON THE COFFEE TABLE. (And yes, I tried the door to see if it was unlocked. Then I lamented my sad lack of anything to pick a lock with. Oddly, neither pacifiers nor sippy cups are good for this task).
However, I did find what I was looking for: electrical outlets. I got back online and called a taxi and get a nearby hotel room.
By the time Mal and I fell into bed, it was 4:00 am.
On the plus side, the hotel had a car rental place on site, and they rented me a lemon yellow PT cruiser for the compact rate, or half the weekly rate of the other car I'd reserved. (However, if I'd had a rental car, Mal wouldn't have had to sleep outside in my suitcase).
Anyway, I hope that's all the drama for a bit. Mallory just literally passed out on the floor watching me type, so I'm going to leave him there and get a nap myself.
Otherwise, it's nice to be back.