Today was a get-it-done kind of day. This fresh hell was a dual off site training and overdue filing stuffed into rolling luggage and a duffle bag. Because I was already going to be at the distant part of campus all day for mandatory training, I decided to get there early.

Parking at that part of campus fills at an exponential rate, so when I managed to snag a decent spot at a few minutes after 7:00, I was thrilled. It was raining lightly, but warm as I heaved the black rolling suitcase out of the trunk of my car. A woman in scrubs got out of the car next to me and lingered nearby.

For a moment, I thought she might be staring at me. I felt a bit weirded out, until I thought about how this must look. Coming into work with a full set of luggage (because by then I had unloaded the duffle as well) could seem like a person living out of their car. For all she knew, I could be dealing with a weird roommate situation or an addict or going through a divorce. Something was definitely wrong here.

I wanted to call out that it was paperwork that I had to file, but then her friend in the next car over caught up to her and they went off to the building. I hesitate and decide to sling the duffle sturdily over the retractable handle on the luggage. I hop the curb and take off tentatively toward the building.

After the first few steps, things are going smoothly and I think that I might be able to pull this off. The parking lot and pedestrian areas at work is a much abused, albeit well-drafted piece of engineering, but the wheels on the rickety piece of luggage just couldn’t handle it.

I’m about halfway through my trip into the basement of X-ray file storage where my departments files are now housed and the luggage starts to get heavier. Eventually the wheel starts to pull and make a funny clacking sound. I move as quickly as I can, all the while ignoring the just-loud-enough-to-notice racket coming out of this ridiculous luggage I’m hauling through the lobby.

By the time I make it to the elevator, the illusion of denial is almost certainly dashed. This thing weighs a ton and I’m breathing pretty hard as the doors close. I get off the elevator and hit the carpeted floor. It hits like a ton of bricks.

I stop to check the luggage and the wheel is totally jacked. I try to give it a kick to straighten it out but it didn’t do much to help. I am far too close to give up at this point. I push on through the final stretch and arrive at my destination sweating under my trench coat.

The wheel was so hot from the friction it scorched me a good twenty minutes later. I began unloading and collating the filing furiously, keeping an eye on the clock so I can make it on time to my 8:00 class.

I skipped lunch in lieu of energy drink and filing and managed to get that done in the rest of the time I had left.Turns out the outside consultant was the husband of our one-time veterinarian, another testament to the incredibly small community we live in. The unusual last name gave it away.

The rest of the training went well. I found out some good information and was able to bring back real information to the boss. He didn’t seem too upset about the dead luggage. Perhaps we can invest in something a bit more professional looking, and less tragic divorcee.