Reached Safely...

After every international journey, things nicely wrap up to a clipped message which reads 'Reached Safely'.
What had to be encountered to accomplish this torpid state of jet-lag is a whole different matter altogether. Just over a week ago, I had my entire house and possessions securely packed into 6 bags amounting to just over 100kgs. Despite warning cries of being over-cautious for leaving a full 5 hours before the flight was due, I stuck to the plan. With past experience, especially during my international travel, I believe in the maxim 'Be prepared for the worst'.
After bidding good-bye to my zealous cousin's who'd accompanied us to the airport, we made headway to the airline counter. The long-winded itinerary was planned enroute Bombay -> Paris -> Amsterdam -> Detroit -> Erie.
After a few tries on the online checking counter, the assisting officer demanded our passports. He pointed out that we did not have a Schengen visa to make the Paris -> Amsterdam transit.
While my dad already feared the worst, I held my cool, because I could not imagine myself trudging up 4 flights of 18 stairs each lugging the aforementioned 100 kgs. I asked him if we could get an emergency visa. From past experience I know there is always a work around. We were asked to step aside and wait for the supervisor. Five minutes later a ruggedly handsome man in crisp white and black uniform walked upto us. He asked me to accompany me to the counter to see if something could be worked out. In less than 15 minutes we had a new set of boarding passes, where we'd bypassed Paris, and its dreadful Air France flight (I got two accounts of absolutely horrendous service), and we heading directly to Amsterdam.
Except for the long transit halt, I quite liked the Amsterdam airport. The immigration at Detroit was a breeze, and we were delighted to be onboard a 36-seater airplane on the way to Erie. We mused that one-fifth of my family could not fit in this flight. The stewardess (1 no.), took a piece of paper and made a headcount before the flight took off. We giggled some more as we discussed how our bags must be the heaviest luggage onboard this toy plane.
Unfortunately, we were wrong!
After waiting for nearly an hour at the only conveyor belt, which refused to budge, a kind airport assistant mentioned that we should check with the airline, since about 7 people were waiting for their bags.
The bags had not made it in time. And were likely to arrive in the only other flight due for the day at 10.30 pm. The airline offered to drop the bags home if they did come, or else check back in the morning.
This spelled DISASTER since the amicable officer at Bombay had told us that our hand baggage could also go in with the check-in luggage without incurring extra costs.
Except mints and eye covers, neither of us had any clothes, for that matter not even our toothbrushes. But since nothing more could be done or said at that point, we hung our heads low, and headed home. After a mournful dinner, we called the airline customer helpline, which ended in a brick wall.
Desperate, we drove back to the airport. And were relieved to find all 6 bags sitting quietly on the conveyor belt. I am happy to report that except a bag of dried gooseberries, nothing popped open or leaked.
So yes, we reached safely.