A few weeks ago, I flew to Ft. Lauderdale to perform for Hadassah. Remember the old joke … two men washed up on a deserted island. One man said, “They’ll never find us here.” The other said, “I owe Hadassah money. Don’t worry, they’ll find us.”
I then flew to Chicago, where I connected to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, to perform with Jerry Seinfeld. After two shows in Wilkes-Barre, Jerry and I moved on to Buffalo. Buffalo was having a warm spell; it was 3 degrees out.
I checked Sam (short for rollaway luggage Samsonite) in at the Ft Lauderdale airport and told Sam to meet me in Wilkes-Barre. However, Sam and American Airlines had other plans. Sam needed a well-earned rest from my schlepping him from town to town with zero consideration of how tired he was and how worn out his wheels had become. Sam stayed in Chicago while I arrived in Wilkes-Barre.
Waiting at the carousel in Wilkes-Barre, it was obvious Sam was not coming. Inside Sam, bursting at the seams, were my stage clothes, toiletries and winter garb — much needed for the near-zero-degree temperatures.
Sam is five years old, but in luggage years, that is 77. Sam gets a little farmisht, so I had attached an Apple Air Tag tracker. The carousel stopped in Wilke-Barre and the steel door to the unloading dock slammed shut. There was no Sam. I opened “Find My” on my iPhone and saw that Sam was still in Chicago, where he stayed for the next four days.
At the baggage office, I filled out the forms and was told that the next flight from Chicago to Scranton/Wilkes-Barre wasn’t until 8:30 the next night. I told them I would be gone by then and to please send Sam to Buffalo, where I had two more shows. They agreed. I asked the American Airlines clerk what happens if nobody claims a lost bag. He smiled and pointed to his shirt and tie.
Three days later, still no sign of Sam. Every time I checked the Air Tag, he hadn’t moved from Chicago.
Except for the clothes on my back, I had nothing to perform in. Jerry and Kevin, the show’s producer, said they would take me shopping. I thought, great—they’ll take me to one of those high-end stores that they frequent, and because they feel so bad for me, they will buy me a new set of expensive duds. Wrong.
Instead, we went to the Wyoming Mall in Wilkes-Barre, whose anchor store is a J.C. Penney, not that there’s anything wrong with that. On June 27, 2025, Jerry was at the Bezos wedding in Venice, Italy, and now he’s shopping with me at H&M in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
They helped me pick out a sports coat, pants, shirts, socks, and boxers. Two hundred twenty-five dollars out the door. These two guys have socks that cost more than that. Next, it was over to the mall shoe store where we found a beautiful, shiny vegan pair of black loafers for $39.99. Jerry bent down to squeeze the front of the shoe to make sure I had room. “You’re good.” People walked up to Jerry and told him he looked just like Jerry Seinfeld. He told them he gets that a lot.
Clothes shopping done, I offered to buy a round of Cinnabon’s, but they chose Auntie Anne’s pretzels instead.
In the dressing room, waiting to go on to 3,000 people in my new duds, Jerry joked that I never looked better. I’ll tell my tailor, Jerry said, that I look better in my $79.00 sport coat than he in his $2,000 suit.
At midnight, American Airlines texted that Sam was leaving Chicago for Scranton/Wilkes-Barre. I called the airlines, told them I left Scranton, and asked them to send Sam to me in Los Angeles.
They said Sam left Chicago, but they would email Scranton to arrange a flight to Philadelphia, where Sam would connect to Los Angeles, and from there, a courier service would bring Sam home.
I placed a “Welcome Home, Sam” sign on my front door on Sunday. Sam arrived around 10:30 pm. I waited until morning to unpack Sam. Then I put him back in the garage for a long snooze until our next trip. Japan.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
