Anglický text článku
My plane landed in Lisbon early on a grey Monday morning, after a long night flight with very little sleep. I was standing at baggage claim, tired and hungry, watching the suitcases go round and round on the carousel. When a black suitcase just like mine finally appeared, I grabbed it, walked through customs and jumped into the first taxi outside.
At the hotel, I threw the suitcase on the bed, opened it and got the surprise of my life. Instead of my clothes, there were three elegant suits, a pair of shiny black shoes and a thick book about fishing. Then I noticed the luggage tag on the handle: the name on it was Miguel Costa, not mine. I had picked up the wrong suitcase, and somewhere in the city, a stranger probably had mine. My charger, my toothbrush and all my clothes for the whole week were gone.
The tag had no phone number on it, so I called the lost and found office at the airport and explained the whole mix-up to a very patient woman. She asked me to describe my suitcase and promised to check the system. Ten minutes later, she called back with good news: Mr Costa had already reported the same problem and left his hotel address. He was staying at a hotel just two streets away from mine, so we agreed to meet that evening.
Miguel was waiting in front of his hotel, holding my suitcase and smiling like an old friend. We swapped our bags and started laughing, because the two suitcases were completely identical. It turned out that we had bought the same cheap model in the same January sales. “I almost wore one of your dresses to my business meeting,” he joked when we said goodbye.
Since that trip, I have always tied a bright yellow ribbon around the handle of my suitcase. It looks a bit silly, but nobody takes my luggage by mistake any more.