The Wrong Suitcase

Daniel had been traveling for nineteen hours, and all he wanted was a shower and his bed. So when a black suitcase came round on the baggage carousel at O'Hare, he grabbed it without a second look and headed straight for the taxi line.

It wasn't until he got home and unzipped it that he realized his mistake. Instead of his dirty shirts and the chocolate he'd bought for his sister, he found tissue paper, a pair of white satin shoes and, carefully folded on top, a wedding dress.

Daniel stared at it for a full minute. Then he noticed the luggage tag: Grace Kim, and a phone number. Underneath, someone had written in pink ink: Wedding, Saturday, 2 p.m., Belmont Hotel. He looked at his watch. It was Saturday. It was 11:40.

He called the number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried the airline, where a recorded voice assured him that his call was important and that he would be put through to an agent in approximately forty-five minutes.

“Forget it,” he muttered. He zipped the suitcase back up and ran downstairs.

Chicago traffic on a Saturday is never kind, and that day it was particularly bad. The taxi driver, an older man named Eddie, listened to the whole story, watching Daniel in the rear-view mirror, and then turned off the radio. “A wedding dress?” he said. “Hold on tight.”

What followed was the most stressful ride of Daniel's life. Eddie took side streets Daniel had never heard of and, at one point, went twice around a block to avoid a parade. All the while, Daniel kept calling Grace's number.

At 1:35, she finally picked up. She was crying so hard he could barely understand her. Apparently her suitcase had been taken by mistake, and she'd been told it might take days to track down. She had spent the morning trying on a borrowed dress that was two sizes too big.

“I've got your dress,” Daniel said. “I'm ten minutes away.”

There was a silence. Then: “Who are you?”

“The guy who took the wrong bag. Long story.”

They pulled up outside the Belmont at 1:52. A group of bridesmaids in green was waiting on the steps, and they practically pulled the suitcase out of Daniel's hands before rushing inside. Daniel stood on the sidewalk, out of breath and feeling slightly ridiculous.

He was about to get back into the taxi when a woman in a gray suit came out. “You're Daniel?” she asked. “I'm Grace's mother. She wants you to stay. Both of you.”

Eddie looked down at his jeans. “I'm not exactly dressed for a wedding.”

“Neither is he,” said Grace's mother, glancing at Daniel's crumpled travel clothes. “Nobody will care.”

So that was how Daniel ended up at a stranger's wedding, eating cake next to a taxi driver. If he had picked up his own suitcase, he would have slept through the whole afternoon. Instead, he danced with the bride's grandmother, and Grace introduced him to everyone as the man who had saved her wedding.

His own suitcase turned up on Tuesday. The chocolate had melted.