Photos as the ship pulled away from Halifax, departing for Iceland. -- Photos by Alex Budak

I figure I've told hundreds of people about my Semester at Sea voyage, and every single person was excited about it... except one. Standing in line at security at SFO, I met Ron Finklestein, perhaps the only pessimist in Canada. He told me travel is a hassle and "you just never know what'll happen." I shrugged him off, too excited about traveling to care. But, just as soothsayer Finklestein hinted, I - as well as my luggage - almost didn't make it to the ship.

I flew into Montreal for a quick stopover before departing for Halifax, Nova Scotia, where I would embark on the ship. In Montreal, I had exactly 45 minutes between the time my flight landed and when my next flight would board. In that sliver of time, I needed to clear customs, pick up my luggage, drop off my luggage (again), check in (again) and go through security (again).

I went to pick up my luggage but only one of my two checked bags came through. Time was ticking to get to my next flight, as I stood staring at the mouth of the conveyor belt, ready to pounce on my bag the second it got off.

Finally, it was five minutes until boarding and I only had one bag. Frantically, I decided it was more important to make my flight than to get my bag, since if I missed this flight, I wouldn't be able to board the ship in time.

I started a light jog, with one of my two bags, and headed for the "Sortie" ("exit," in French), only to find it diagonally across the entire baggage claim from me. I got to the sortie, ran up the steps (no time for an elevator), only to end up in the front of the terminal again.

It was now my time to board and I was looking at a huge line to check my remaining bag. I ran up to the man in the front of the line, explained my situation and asked if I could possibly go ahead of him. He gave me the "I speak French, not English, and have no idea what you're saying" look, but the man behind him let me go next.

I checked my bag, hoping it didn't meet the same fate as its cousin, and headed for security. After passing security, I was already ten minutes late for boarding.

Not having time to put my laptop back in my backpack, I assumed it in my right arm like a football and began a brisk walk. After I realized that I was in a tunnel where, inexplicably, my gate was the last one, I started a full-out sprint, protecting the laptop with one arm while using my left to hold my bouncing backpack in place.

I came sprinting down a narrow hallway where Canadians came to a halt to let me pass. I did a courtesy slowdown (as if it makes it any safer) and then started my sprint up again. Finally I reached my gate, perspiration dripping from my brow, my face as red as a Canadian Maple Leaf, and boarded the flight just in time... for the flight attendant to announce the flight was delayed 15 minutes.

In Halifax, I got off the plane tired, hungry and expecting at least one, but hopefully two bags to meet me at the claim. To my dismay (but not complete surprise), neither of my bags came off the flight to meet me.

I happened to meet two other girls on Semester at Sea, both of whom had their luggage lost by Air Canada. I went to the baggage claim to make a report, and the man in the maple-leaf sweater-vest asked me if I was on Semester at Sea. I nodded, confused as to how he knew; he informed me about 30 SAS students lost baggage that day.

I told him where my ship was docked, and that I needed my luggage by 4:00 p.m. or else I will be traveling to Iceland with only one shirt. He told me not to get my hopes up.

I entered the ship the next morning at 8:00 a.m., and sped through the check-in, since I didn't have any bags to check. I boarded the ship and was struck by how empty my cabin felt with barely more than a laptop, some toiletries and a pair of pants to sustain me for the voyage.

I spent the day shuffling between calls to Air Canada, obsessively refreshing the Air Canada baggage tracer website and a run to the Halifax Mall where I bought seven non-descript color T-shirts at GAP.

As I was gathering a nice collection of $9 V-neck shirts in various colors, the "sales associate" commented I must be loading up on clothing because of the sale. I told him my tale of woe, and he informed me another SASer had just been in the store doing the same thing as me.

I headed back to the ship at the 3:00 p.m. boarding deadline, resigned to the fact I would be wearing only different hues of GAP shirts until Iceland.

At 3:45 p.m., only a few minutes before the ship was to take off for the seas, a voice came over the loudspeaker: "Will the following students please come to the union to claim luggage." I waited with the anticipation of a team on Selection Sunday, hoping to hear its name announced for the NCAA tournament.

The first named announced was mine, and by the time he finished "Budak," I was out the door. To my delight, not one, but both of my pieces of luggage were waiting for me, changing my predicament from "what colour GAP shirt will I wear today," to "where am I going to put the seven extra GAP shirts in my cabin?"

I threw my bags in my room and headed out to the seventh deck to watch the ship pull away from shore. A bagpiper played and waving families on shore slowly faded into the Halifax skyline.

Sure, travel can be a hassle, but I made it, Ron Finklestein, and so did my bags.