Oh Where, Oh Where Is My Gray Camera Bag?

A true story from the early 90s

NOTE: As I mentioned in the previous posting, I’ve been going through archives as I’m in a purging time. Several stories from my long ago past have emerged and I will share a few with you. This story is true and could have not happened post 9/11.

I had just finished a one-week cruise to Alaska. You might say the trip, which I had won, turned out to be a disaster. The ship was ancient and so were the passengers. It’s not like I have anything against elderly people, but I was expecting a more adventurous group for what I thought would be an adventurous cruise to the breathtaking glaciers of Alaska. Gloria, my traveling companion, and I decided to make the best of the situation, by entertaining ourselves and anyone who came into our path by making a home video. Being a documentary filmmaker, I had all my video gear in hand. Gloria insisted on being the camerawoman, and I took hold of the microphone and became the host of our soon-to-be Alaskan Cruise Vacation Video.

We shot for seven days and seven nights. Unfortunately, it was the only thing that kept Gloria and I together on the trip. You see, we turned out to be completely incompatible. She is how she is and I being how I am, we pushed each other's buttons. By the end of the cruise, we were both eager to say goodbye to each other and recover from a week of constant conflict. But we still had a weekend to spend together in Vancouver before we returned home to Los Angeles. Both of us were hoping we could mend our differences, heal the relationship, and enjoy two days together in beautiful British Columbia.

The first thing we needed to do was rent a car. Acme it was, and we were on our way to downtown Vancouver in the Acme shuttle van. (Please note that in order not to incriminate anyone all proper names in this story are fictitious) We were not alone in the van but didn’t pay much attention to whom else was in it. When we arrived at Acme, I quickly jumped out and advised Gloria to watch the bags while I rented us a car. I finished the paperwork, came out, loaded the car and we were on our way. But first, we had to pick up an Italian Officer, Maurizio, who was going to spend the afternoon with us before he departed later that afternoon on the identical cruise. What a life. To think every week the same thing, same ports, same food, but different passengers.

The three of us headed on our way to do some sightseeing. When we arrived at Stanley Park, I knew it was a Kodak moment when I saw a beautiful totem pole; I ran for my camera. I placed my key in the trunk lock and lifted the hood. Uh? Where is my camera bag? Oh, it must be in the car. A quick look in the car proved me wrong. Gloria was convinced it was in the trunk and insisted we remove all the luggage. So, we did. No camera bag. No video camera. No microphone, lights, headphones, tapes, still camera, film, batteries, or gifts I purchased and had no more room to place in my suitcase. It was all gone. All the gear that I used to make documentaries with was gone.

We jumped quickly into the car, and raced back to Acme. I had probably left the bag on the loading dock where the honest Vancouverites were holding it for me.

How wrong we were again. Gloria and I, for the first time on this trip, became comrades. We quickly transformed into Cagney and Lacey with a mission to accomplish and a deadline to meet. Maybe someone who was on the Acme shuttle van with us, picked up the bag by mistake? We were sitting right behind the driver and only noticed the passenger in the front seat. He was fairly talkative and we learned that he and his party were headed back to Miami, Florida that evening. So, we got his name from Acme and learned he was due to return the car to the airport at 5:30 PM. The search for their flight information began. We called every airline that had a flight going from Vancouver to Miami around 7:00 PM and identified ourselves to the airline rep. We claimed we wanted to confirm our flight. Bam, after several phone calls we succeeded–United Airlines, Flight 207, departing 7:20 PM for Miami.

We jumped back into the car and headed to Stanley Park again to continue where we left off. But not in quite the same manner or same mood. Armed with the color, model, year, and license plate number of the car that belonged to this Floridian family, we began our search for them. They must be sightseeing just like us, we thought. After going through every parking lot more than once we decided it was time to take a break from our work and have a relaxing lunch. After all, Maurizio’s ship was leaving in an hour. And I’m sure he wasn’t having the afternoon he expected to have. For that matter, none of us were. So we headed down to the old district and found a Greek restaurant. The Greek food was delicious, something I missed greatly since I moved from New York to Los Angeles.

After a filling meal, we said our goodbyes and dropped Maurizio off at the ship. Gloria and I were now on our own with one more important place to go. We headed straight for the airport, ready to meet them, the Floridians, the borrowers, the thieves of my camera–at the Acme counter.

By the time we arrived, they had already returned their car. We had missed them. They were somewhere in the airport. We decided before we began searching the airport for them we should have security with us. So we contacted the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I told the officer the story in detail. When I finished, he advised me that this incident occurred in Vancouver proper and that I should have filed a police report there. It was out of his jurisdiction. But he was sympathetic to my problem and was willing to help. So, Gloria, the security guard, and I stepped on the escalator and headed up to the second level. The three of us, roamed around, in and out of all the cafes, shops, and waiting areas looking for the man who had been sitting in the front seat of the Acme van. “Over there,” I said to my two partners. There was a man standing in line by the check-in counter with his wife and another couple. All the bags were on luggage carts. From where I was standing, I saw a gray camera bag. They had it, they were taking my valuables, tools for my livelihood, back to Miami where I would never have a chance to find them again. The three of us marched over. I have to admit having our new partner, the security guard, who was dressed in his intimidating uniform and armed with a gun, we probably didn’t look like a friendly bunch. They all looked at us with that guilty, defensive expression. I knew it. They stole it.

When we arrived, I explained to these people who now sported an angry expression on their faces, what had happened and what I was looking for. One of the women was ticked off and said, “Go ahead, search the bags, I don’t care. Why would we want your camera? We have our own!” Her husband pulled out his wallet and digging into it revealed his badge, claiming, “What do you think, I’m crazy? You think I’d risk my career?” To think, he was a police officer from Dade County, Florida. His wife was once again prodding me to go ahead and search their bags. I have to admit I didn’t feel too comfortable doing this. As they felt violated, I felt like the violator. But I received encouragement from Gloria to search. So, I timidly unzipped the gray camera bag. It was not mine. I noticed that gray camera bags were more common than any other color. Yup, they certainly didn’t seem to need my camera, they were well-equipped on their own.

Back to the drawing board. “Not yet,” Gloria said. “They might have stuck it in their suitcase and all their bags were checked in already.” We both looked at our new friend, Mr. Security. We didn’t have to say a word. He looked at us and said, “It’s not legal but I’ll have their bags x-rayed.” Gloria and I planted ourselves down in front of the Acme desk on the first level and waited for him to return. Ten minutes later he was walking towards us and shaking his head no.

Oh, well we tried. There was one more possibility. We were informed by one of the party members who I had accosted that there were other passengers on the Acme van. There were three Mexican women. Uh, huh, Sherlock! Another lead to pursue. Gloria kicked into action and jumped on the phone. Speaking to the Acme rep she got the name and home address of the Mexican woman who rented the car and learned when the woman was returning the car to the airport. It was two o’clock the following afternoon. Okay so with that information we hit the phones again calling all the airlines until we learned which one flew to Guadalajara the following day in the afternoon. We verified they were on the flight by identifying ourselves once again as the passengers and confirming our supposed seats. Viola, now all we had to do was sit tight until the following day. But I was advised I’d better make a police report. So, I did it over the phone. The officer who took the report was impressed when I gave her the serial numbers of all my equipment. No, I didn’t have them memorized but I did have the information on my laptop computer which I still had in my possession. Thank God for that!

After a long exhausting day, we finally arrived back to where we were staying around midnight. We were hosted by friends of friends who lived in beautiful North Vancouver, which by the way, is a good hour away from the airport. Well, we brought this lovely family up to date on our quest and then hit the sack.

The following morning, we woke, had some breakfast, and were on our way back to the airport, this time to intersect three Mexican women. We were sure we’d arrive way before they would. Both of us had the details about the car they rented and their names. I went to the Acme return in the parking lot and Gloria went to the entrance of the airport. By this time the Acme woman I spoke to was familiar with the case of the missing camera bag. She told me that the people who we suspected hadn’t arrived yet. Thirty minutes passed and I was getting anxious. I walked outside to the lot and immediately spotted their car parked. Oh, no they got away. Apparently, they had dropped off the car walked inside the terminal to the Acme counter, and closed their account.

We contacted airport security again. This time the man who arrived was not friendly at all. In fact, he didn’t want to be bothered with us and refused to help. We knew we needed his help and in a short time the conversation strayed away from the problem at hand to the reality cop TV shows Gloria and I worked on. Bam! In a matter of seconds, we became celebrities and he was willing to do anything for us.

First, we had them paged. No response. Then we roamed around the now very crowded airport looking at peoples’ carry-on luggage in the hope of finding my camera. Nope, just a lot of look-alike gray camera bags.

They went through customs, that’s what probably happened. Gloria and I could not get through to the other side but our new friend could. He told us that he would go to the gate right before their flight was boarding and he would page us afterwards.

So, Gloria and I decided to take a break and have a cup of coffee. Up until this moment, Gloria was convinced we would find the bag. I, on the other hand, was less optimistic. What was most disturbing for me was the loss of all the videotape and film we shot of our trip. I suppose I’m the sentimental type. We had already had their luggage x-rayed and it wasn’t there. The only possibility was that they were carrying it on. Just as Gloria confessed that the chances of them carrying the bag on was unlikely, I heard my name paged.

We both ran in separate directions. By the time I arrived to where I had been paged, Gloria was there. The officer looked at me and said, “They were lovely women.” “Oh, well, I’m sure they were,” I thought. “And my bag was really gone.” Just then I looked at Gloria and she had a shit-eating grin on her face. That’s when I knew there was something else going on. I looked down and saw my camera bag on the ground.

I screamed! The officer had a huge smile on his face. “What happened?” I asked. Apparently, he had approached them and asked them if they had the bag. They behaved as if they didn’t understand English but in a matter of seconds they pulled out of a double-layered, oversized, opaque Vancouver tourist plastic bag–my camera bag! All name tags and my custom padded strap had been removed. They said they were going to mail it back to me from Guadalajara. Yeah, right. Well, I could have prosecuted but I would have had to turn my equipment in as evidence and who knows when I would see it again. The only thing I’m sorry about is I didn’t have the opportunity to confront these women myself.

Everything was in my bag. Including all the extra gifts I had bought. Before we said goodbye to the police officer, who was now a very happy police officer, we decided to videotape him. I took the microphone and Gloria took the camera, as I interviewed him on camera. After all, this was the most adventurous part of our very well-documented vacation.

Gloria and I spent the rest of the day visiting with a friend of hers. It had been a long and draining vacation but we both knew the final episode of this trip had a happy ending and we were proud of the results.

We arrived back to Los Angeles, where we were fetched by a friend. Gloria and I said goodbye. The next day in the comforts of my home, I decided to take a look at the footage of the trip. There wasn’t a shot in focus or an image that held on the screen for more than a second. Little did I know Gloria’s camera skills left a lot to be desired.

It has been six months since that trip. I am about to shoot another documentary. No, no, Gloria is not the camerawoman. I’m working with professionals. But I am using my beloved camera. To think, I probably would have never seen my video camera, my camera bag, my microphone, lights, headphones, still camera, batteries, tapes, film, and gifts again, if all I did was fill out a police report in Vancouver. Who else would have cared enough to devote so much time and attention to finding it? After all, the police have more pressing matters to tend to.

So, I’ve learned to never give up – persistence pays off! And…most camera bags are gray!