Me being who I am (by the way, I'm better at being myself than anyone else) asked the flight attendant at the gate if she would please call baggage claim and plead with them to be extremely careful with the contents of my luggage. Also to tell them, if a Samoan (no offense meant) sat on it, I was sure he would break and crush the insides.
She did as I asked because I was very polite and smiled throughout the whole scenario. My smile was nothing more than sheer terror and nervousness. I knew this security measure would be the one snafu to my dream vacation in paradise.
I continued with my trip home with thoughts of the lovely time I had on vacation. I also had images of my personal effects sticking out the sides of my luggage as jute rope held my luggage together. I really didn't like not being present as strangers plundered through my personal articles. This unnerved me to no end but exhaustion won and I fell fast asleep.
Arriving in San Francisco, I thought of my luggage requiring inspection again. I was a bit frantic. I listened for my name over the intercom but departed San Francisco on time and without being asked for the combination again. Then I thought, of course not, it wasn't locked when the pieces left Oahu! More rope! We all know a female handler would have used duct tape.
I read from San Francisco to Atlanta. Images of the horrible condition my luggage was in floated through my mind the same as the story I was reading. To bring this to an end, I was surprised at baggage claim as my lovely set of Hartman pieces emerged from behind the secret wall. If you want my endorsement, buy Hartman Luggage.