My flight started off like any normal business trip. Upon my arrival into Denver, the weather turned from sunny skies to apocalyptic rains. They were experiencing torrential downpours all over the state. The rains subsided just long enough to allow us to disembark from our aircraft. As I stepped into the airport, I saw the rains start back up. I saw luggage on the carts, and chuckled, "glad my bags are safe and dry on our plane." Soon my laughter would turn to tears, anger, and contempt for mother nature. Upon my arrival in Seattle, I waited, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the very last bag came off the baggage claim. It looked like my bag, but it was a different color, black, compared to its normal green. Upon closer inspection, it was my bag. Tears began to form. "This is not going to be good," I thought.

I was in a rush, so I did not have time to look at my bag in detail. Upon my arrival at the hotel, the true damage was revealed to me. My bag had not escaped the wrath of the Denver rain. I opened my bags to find puddles of water. Every article of clothing that I had brought with me was saturated. "What do I do," was the first thought that I had running through my head. I immediately switched to survivor mode. I would not go down without a fight. All the years of the Discovery Channel and Survivor clicked in automatically. I started frantically throwing clothes all over my room. There was no rhyme or reason to my madness, only the thoughts of dry socks and under shirts were on my mind. I cranked up the temperature in my room to "liquid hot magma." I was in my only dry set of clothes, with a blow-dryer, and a commitment to save my clothes. I fought through sweat and tears all night, and in the end, I was able to save 4 boxers, 2 pairs of socks, 2 suits, 3 dress shirts, 1 belt, and 1 pair of shoes.

-- Joshua T., Owings Mills