How do you lose someone’s luggage on a direct flight?

Northwest Airlines has found a way.

Mike and I landed in Anchorage, Alaska, Saturday afternoon, and so did all of our stuff save one item: Mike’s suitcase. Apparently, the ticketing agent with whom we checked our baggage in Minneapolis slapped Mike’s tag on someone else’s bag and vice versa. Mike got their bag here in Anchorage, and Mike’s suitcase traveled to Honolulu. Fortunately, it was tracked down and delivered to our hotel the following day. Northwest gave Mike $50 for the day his luggage was lost.

It’s strange and exhilirating to be back in Alaska exactly two years after I left it. Even though we’re in Anchorage instead of Southeast Alaska, I’ve experienced all the familiar sights and smells. The air has a very strong, sweet, spicy smell which I think must be spruce, and enormous mountains surround us.

Anchorage itself is an unremarkable, even drab, medium-sized city (about 300,000 people), but it’s surrounded by an incredible landscape. The first thing Mike and I did was drive down the Seward Highway and take in the views of the water and mountains. It felt like going home again. Every river and creek looks just like the Skagway River, complete with gray-green glacial silt clouding the water.

Our home for five nights is the Clarion Suites downtown. There’s a living room area with its own TV and phone! There’s a microfridge and a kitchen sink! It’s luxurious.

We had a late dinner at a downtown Anchorage restaurant called Winter Thyme. As we approached the door, we saw a sign announcing that it was their very last night in business. Good timing.

Mike flipped through a local, free newspaper and learned that there were eleven rape reports for that week. Shocked, he asked our server, a thin, emo-looking guy with hornrimmed glasses, if that was normal. Our server said that yes, it pretty much was. “People are fucked up here,” he said, “Alaska is where people go to escape the lower 48 states.” Mike and I have not stopped talking about rape since.

We shared a prawn chowder, a King Crab and tomato salad sandwich on a croissant, and salmon, and I enjoyed an Alaskan Amber, and all of this was wonderful. Joseph Arthur’s “Honey and the Moon” played on the radio. Things were going well.

Hearing that it was supposed to be an active night for Northern Lights, Mike and I ventured out of the city to catch a glimpse. Unfortunately, it was extremely overcast. Not even the tiniest bit of sky could be seen. Plus, we were getting very sleepy, so we called it a night.

Sunday: Our only entire free day in Alaska. On the docket: Adventure.