You guessed it.

When we arrived at home our checked luggage was not on the baggage carousel. It was in West Palm Beach Florida.

So after filling out all the lost baggage forms and providing our contact information by the time we got down to the interterminal train in Terminal A the baggage claim was no longer operating. It was luckly (cough, cough) only 3600 feet from Terminal A to Terminal C down under the bowels of the airport in the middle of the night with a stroller and a bazillion bags. Joy. Not. I hate to admit it, but it was probably a good thing that they lost our other bags as I am not sure how we would have managed them as well...

When we finally got to our terminal we took the elevator to our parking level. Only it didn't look right. The car wasn't where it was supposed to be. We guessed another color and walked another 1/2 a mile. It looked even less familiar. I left Kevin, the kids, and the bags and backtracked back to the terminal to find the right elevator, and the car, and then pick them up.

When we finally got home the clock read after 2AM. 3AM from the timezone we had just come from. What a long, long day...