What's big, red and a pain in the neck to lug around an airport? My new suitcase packed to overflowing and full of items that I used on my first visit to China. For some reason I hadn't heard the news that China had modernized and that I didn't need all the medical supplies and food that I had packed, along with other useless and sundry items.

To say that Big Red was an albatross would be a vast understatement. It not only caused me to get lost at airports all the way from Boston to Beijing and beyond, it also cost a bundle in overweight baggage charges. And "Big Red" as I affectionately named it, wasn't even my only suitcase-I had two or three other, smaller bags, too- which added to my stress at airports.

THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST LUGGAGE

My first airport/luggage mishap surprisingly didn't involve Big Red. Upon arrival in Beijing after a 12-hour flight from San Francisco, I discovered that my blue backpack was not among my travel group's assorted suitcases, backpacks and duffel bags that had been dumped out onto the baggage carousel.

After a lot of hand waving and wrangling with airports officials, I filled out a lost luggage form and expected that would I would never see my backpack again. Well, I thought, I still have Big Red.

A few nights later the doorbell at my hotel room (yes, doorbell) rang at 2AM. My roommate and I both popped up out of a sound sleep.

"Who could that be," she said, warily, not too pleased.

"Dunno. I'll go see." I replied, without a thought about my blue backpack.

I went to the door and peered out of the peephole. Standing there with a scowl on his face was a fierce looking man who appeared to be demanding, in Chinese, for me to let him in.

After relaying the news to my roommate she advised me to tell him to go away, in Chinese.

"Boo Yao", she grumbled. "Boo Yao, just tell him that."

Well, Boo Yao (literal translation, "don't want") didn't do the trick so I called our Chinese guide and woke him out of a sound sleep.

"Call the hotel waitress,” he advised. I found this rather puzzling, as I didn't know how a waitress could help or even how to find one at 2AM.

Meanwhile, the man at the door was becoming more insistent. Just as I was about to yell "Boo Yao" for the tenth time, I spied my blue backpack at his feet. So, I opened the door a crack and he shoved it in. Strange how airlines deliver lost luggage these days, I thought.

CURBSIDE CHECK IN

Alas, it was only one of many "baggage blunders." One of the worst attributes of being the owner of Big Red was the fact that it made me virtually persona non grata to the "Baggage committee" on my month long group tour. I can't blame my fellow travelers for grimacing when they saw us coming, my bag and me slowly rolling along, lagging behind the group.

The fact that I had to be called out of every ticket line at every airport in China to pay fees for the extra weight didn't help much either. Talk about carrying extra baggage. The metaphor was a great fit in this (suit) case.

Heaving my bag on and off various tour buses and dragging it around airports across China was also quite a work-out. In some airports, I got lucky and one of the men in our group would take pity on me and lend a hand. But at one particular airport in a western province about halfway through our journey, I stood alone, struggling to pull Big Red from the street onto the sidewalk. Big Red was having none of this and wasn't cooperating at all.

It was a very hot day and sweat was pouring off my face as I saw my group rushing through the airport doors and into the huge crowd within. If they left me behind it wouldn't have been the first time.

Just as I squared my shoulders and began to try to yank Big Red over the curb, a little lady, who looked as if she was at least 80, emerged from the crowd. She was tiny, under five feet tall and less than half my size. But she reached out wordlessly and in one swift move, lifted Big Red over the curb and onto the sidewalk. Before I could thank her, she had disappeared back into the crowd.