For some reason, my little luggage tag makes me feel very 1940s travel chic, like I should be wearing a sensible cloche and white gloves as I board my plane and order my martini from the stewardess. However, I am sure I'll be jerked back to reality when I board my 2010 super-secure, non-peanut serving, no free beverage, no leg room, non-stewardess (PC= flight attendant) flight. Hopefully my super-snazzy luggage tag will help me hang on to the illusion a little longer.
BUT YOU ASK . . . .
What if the ribbon snags on some super-sized airplane bolt and rips right off, leaving my suitcase contact-informationless?
AND I ANSWER . . .
I don't care! I will risk it! I flirt with danger like . . . (see potential fill-in options below—VOTE NOW through the comments section!)
- Ross Gellar flirted with the short-haired pizza girl.
- a person who buys a ticket for a Caribbean cruise during hurricane season.
- the Sharks flirted with the Jets for control of their "turf" during a totes fierce dance number in Act 1 of an American musical classic.
(There's a chance I may have had too much coffee.)