Two Decembers ago, we were able to catch the last train leaving Boston to New York City during one of the biggest snow storms in recent memory. It was the last train because they suspended that (and every other) train into NYC later that morning. From the windows of the train ride, we could see the snow blanketing the coastline.

Because we had a week's worth of luggage and rightfully anticipated that Grand Central station would be a complete zoo, I mentally prepped for our exit and beeline to the taxi stand. With military intensity, I unloaded our bags and we headed up the ground floor. The taxi line was as (maybe worse) than expected: freezing cold, heavy snowfall, interaction with a range of obnoxious characters. Eventually, after stepping in a deep pool of sludgy icy water among other indignities, we transported all our things to the room .

As we unpacked and took warm showers, a moment of panic: do we all our bags? Counted them up: yep, we've got all seven. Seven? We only brought six items. Uh oh.

Luckily, the owner, a Baltimore photographer, had some identifying information in her bag. A bit of Googling and we were able to get her # from her web site. If you are ever in this situation, I can assure you it's a bit touch and go. The woman was at first relieved, and then began her suspicious interrogation. Her indigence and tone would recede periodically as she likely remembered that I HAD HER BAG AND SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHO I WAS AND I CALLED HER TO RETURN IT FOR FREE. Eventually, I was able to coax her into giving me her home address

NYC city streets were practically shut down for the next few days, but almost everything in townwas still open. Thanks to the subway, we had a event-filled weekend of museums, dinners with friends, nights out, and unique views of a snow caked city while the aforementioned luggage was travelling to a reluctantly relieved Baltimore resident via Fedex.