Midway Airport Chicago — The Beginning, 3:15 PM

It all started normally. Our flight landed on time at Midway Airport, Chicago, on a cold May afternoon. Two check-in bags, one laptop bag. My jacket was inside one of the check-ins.

I sat on a bench, pulled out my jacket, and placed the laptop bag beside me. I wore the jacket, stood up with the two check-in bags, and we walked right out of the airport.

Without the laptop bag.

To this day, I can replay that scene in my head a hundred times—and still not understand how I left it behind.

The Ride to Lake Shore Drive — Chicago Downtown, 4:00 PM

We got into a car with a driver who was all heart.
Palestinian by origin, Muhammed, born in Puerto Rico, with a Spanish accent thick enough to slice through Chicago pizza.

We laughed. He gave me tips—places to eat, islands to visit on my next trip to Puerto Rico.
We exchanged numbers. I said goodbye, clueless that my laptop bag hadn’t said goodbye to the airport.

Home — The Realization, 4:45 PM

There were hugs, laughter, and a moment to relax with our son.

And then it hit me—Where is my laptop bag?

Darkness. Panic. Disbelief.

But there was a glimmer of hope: the AirTag, as my son reminded me.

Thanks to both my sons—who once insisted I drop one in the bag—my son opened the Find My app on my iphone.

There it was: still at MDW airport. Most likely in the same place, on the bench.

Thank you, Apple. Thank you, AirTag.

Back to MDW Airport Chicago, 5:05 PM

We booked another Uber. Enter Faud—calm, composed, understanding.

He sensed our urgency and let us be.
The drive was 35 minutes—but emotionally, it felt like hours.

Fifteen minutes in—the bag hadn’t moved.

My wife, with a calmness I still don’t fully understand, reassured me:
“We will find the bag.”
She created a shield of belief. A bubble of quiet strength.

And I believed. For the first time, I truly believed in vibes.

And then… the AirTag moved.

To Maywood, IL.
Not good. About 30 minutes away from us. Definitely not the airport.

Faud was ready to chase it. But we decided to go to MDW first—just in case.

Back at the Scene, 5:40 PM

I dashed through the doors.

A man sat by the bench. A similar-looking bag beside him.
Heart pounding—I asked.

Not mine.

We checked with Southwest and Delta airlines. The police. Vendors.
Nobody had seen it.
One officer suggested calling 311. Another shrugged:
“Maybe forget about the bag. It is stolen!”

But the AirTag was still alive—now pinging from Franklin Park, IL.

A house. A neighborhood.

25 miles from the airport.

To Franklin Park, 6:00 PM

Faud hadn’t left. God bless him. He drove us there.

The AirTag—still. Waiting.

I was changing passwords in the car while racing through worst-case scenarios: digital keys, the laptop, even my medications.

Our son was worried about our safety—
“You’re going to knock on a random door?” he asked.
We assured him: we’ll involve the police.

Faud suggested: “Let’s stop at a police station first.”

We did. It was closed.

Then—by pure chance—Faud spotted an unmarked police car.

We flagged it down. The officer listened to the whole story. Paused. Then said with authority:

“Call 911!!”
We did.
“Wait outside. We’re dispatching a patrol car” said the 911 operator.

The Climax — A Scene Out of a Movie, 6:30 PM

We parked away from the building—just watching.
A modest apartment block—maybe 6 or 12 units.

Two police cars arrived. We moved closer.
We explained. Showed them the app on my iPhone (Find My…).

They understood. They cared.

One officer tried the main door. Locked.
Police officers carry a master key—but this one didn’t work.

Then—almost magically—he tapped on a window of an apartment on the main level.

A woman opened it. Latina, I noted.
The officer asked her to open the main door.
She did.

The plan: go floor by floor, triggering the AirTag sound.

Floor 1: nothing.
Floor 2: nothing.
Floor 3: nothing.

“Signal weak. Try moving.”
My heart sank.

The officers were reaching their limit. They aren’t authorized to randomly knock on doors without a warrant. I could tell—they had already gone above and beyond.

They were still waiting. Still discussing…

And then—my wife came in.
She had been waiting in the Uber with Faud while the drama unfolded. Calm. Firm.

“Let’s knock on the doors.”

With her approval, I tapped on that same window again.

The woman returned.
This time, I explained in Spanish:

“Olvidé mi computadora en el aeropuerto…” (I forgot my laptop at the airport…)

Before I could finish, she exclaimed:

“Es tuya?!” (Is it yours?!)
¡Siiiiii…! (Yes. Yes. YES.)

She handed the prized laptop bag to me!

I hugged her. Thanked her. Told her how much I love the Latino community—and how deep a connection I feel with it.

She had picked it up at the airport, thinking someone had forgotten it, and brought it home—hoping to identify the owner later.

We gave her a small token of thanks. This was Saturday evening. On Sunday, she emailed me explaining why she had taken the laptop to safety. Her plan was always to find the rightful owner—and I believe her.

The Return, Around 7:15 PM

We walked out—tears barely held in.

We thanked the officers. One of them was Officer Shaikat—my Bengali brother from another mother.

Back to Faud—my brother from Saudi from another mother.
He was patiently waiting in the car.

He smiled when he saw the bag. We smiled.
I shared the climax of the story with him, and then he drove us to Swati (an Indian restaurant on Devon Street, Chicago).

Dinner was at that place. But the real feast—was relief.

Cast… or Should I Say, Angels & Credits

• AirTag: The unsung hero.

• Faud: The calm Uber driver turned rescue partner. Only charged us for the ride from home to MDW. Later messaged me:
  “Good morning, sir. Thank God it ended happily. I’m happy to help. Thank you for your kindness too. You and your wife were so calm—you felt like family. I didn’t do it for money. You don’t have to send anything, my friend.”

• My wife: The believer. The shield of faith.

• Patricia: The kind woman who picked up the bag.

• Officer Shaikat & Officer Ismailov (Franklin Park PD): Protectors who cared.

• My sons: Who told me to get an AirTag.

• My son and his girlfriend: For their concern, support, and faith.

Final Words

Technology.
Faith.
Community.

But above all—God.
Because sometimes, only a miracle will do.

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