Snuffles and Doggies

Posted: September 30, 2015 in Short stories, starts & writing, Travel writing

I’m bumping this one after a certain Snuffleupagus once again went missing in transit.


We’re the last ones off the plane.
If you’re not the first in line then why rush to be part of the queuing crowd?
Besides, we have just so many bags to deal with. Easier to let the frantic hordes go by so we don’t feel like we’re being pushed.

Entrusting each child with a suitcase to wheel out, each adult is loaded up with a backpack (well over the carry-on weight limit) and laptop satchel (ditto) before we head down the aisle and try to prepare ourselves for the steamy fug and fumes that await us just outside the Arrivals gate.
Keep the kids focused and suitcases on course, try to stop them from crashing into things and running over peoples’ toes and half way to Customs and Immigration we discover we have a missing soft toy. “Doggy” has been left on the plane.
I about-face. Head back to the plane.

We have a bit of a history of favourite snuggle toys being left behind. If our efforts over the years to reunite our children with their oft neglected “Snuffles” and “Doggies” doesn’t engender a lifetime of gratitude I will be really disappointed.

A Snuffleupagus, thought lost forever, was found in the car park of a backpackers’ in Broome and briefly became the bar mascot before being posted home across the continent by considerate staff.

The same Snuffle left in a hotel in Bali. The absence only noticed once Customs and security screening had been cleared at the airport, brought by hotel staff on motorbike and paid for in cash.
Cue surveillance footage: Sweaty white guy (SWG) talks with security guard (SG) at entrance to airport terminal before walking out to airport concourse. Indonesian man (IM) arrives on motorcycle and approaches SWG. SWG pays IM cash for a small, elephant-shaped plush toy. IM leaves and SWG walks back into the terminal, speaking with the SG before proceeding through security screening.
Nothing suspicious here!


The returned Snuffle was promptly vomited on by a delirious child (another story)…
Back on the plane it takes half-a-dozen flight attendants helping to look under seats and in seat pockets to locate the lost “Doggy”.
I about-face again, try not to whack anyone with my overweight backpack or overweight laptop satchel.
I’m already hot and sweaty and I haven’t even left the air-conditioned comfort of the airport terminal.
Heading back off the plane, the Good Daddy angel is on my right shoulder patting me on the back and I’m imagining the adoring flight attendants thinking “What a good, dedicated father he is”.
Meanwhile, the Bad Daddy angel is on my left shoulder muttering obscenities about “air-headed kids” and “f**king soft toys are gonna be the death of me”.


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