Apple air tags. Are they worth the investment?

At AUD $45 a pop, are Apple Air Tags worth the investment? That’s a good question.

After hearing several hideous stories about lost luggage during the post Covid travel frenzy, my travel buddy (husband Monty) and I decided to invest in Apple Air Tags. Friends and friends of friends told tales of successfully tracking down lost luggage. We concluded AUD $90 for two air tags was a wise investment.  Air Tags securely secreted in our packed suitcases, we departed Brisbane at 10.44 on a Thursday evening. We landed in Doha to change planes for London. While in Doha the app indicted both bags were registered as being in Doha too. Excellent. All going to plan.

After 26 plus hours in transit, we landed at Heathrow Airport. Waiting for our luggage I checked the Air Tag app. One suitcase was ‘apparently’ still in Doha. With only one suitcase in hand, we checked in with Qatar’s lost baggage claims. Our details were recorded (after much deliberation with the Qatar staff member). Frustrated and tired we rushed to meet our pre-paid taxi. The parking rules at Heathrow are strict; our driver was concerned we were going to be late.  Any later, we would have to forgo our $130 plus taxi fare and he would leave LHR.

We made it in time and off we cruised along the M4 to our Covent Garden digs for two night’s stay. So many things we had planned. Our jubilation at being in London was overshadowed by my ‘missing in action’ suitcase full of my travel treasures and necessities. The afternoon was spent buying personal items; the following morning was earmarked for clothes shopping knowing the suitcase may not appear. We still hadn’t heard from Qatar even though our app said my luggage had arrived at Heathrow. We tried every possible avenue to connect with a Qatar representative only to be redirected to different phone numbers, websites, web links, and chat bots, until finally speaking with two different representatives who used VoIP. We could barely understand what they were saying due to their accents and the poor phone connections. These fellows kept redirecting us back to the website. We were exhausted and exasperated. Eventually we threw in the flag. We embraced the ‘wait till the morning’ attitude. There’ll be news for sure.

A sleepless night followed. Morning came. Around 5.00am I logged onto the app. The suitcase had arrived at Heathrow Airport. Jubilation. There was no guarantee, however, that this information was correct. We headed to Oxford Street to purchase a couple of basic items of clothing to see me through the next 24 hours. Although fortified with positivity we were yet to hear from Qatar.

Around 1pm I logged onto the app and my MIA suitcase was now at an address in Colnbrook. We had the street and number. It was just sitting there. We alerted Qatar. Not interested. If Qatar wasn’t going to help us, we had to take immediate action. 3.35pm we called an uber.

The uber couldn’t find our address. After many texts from Monty explaining our location, he cancelled us. We were charged £6.48 just because the driver couldn’t be bothered turning around in traffic to reach our pick-up spot. Seriously! So Monty and I walked from our Covent Garden hotel, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, to the main street. Our new uber driver, Adolphe, was sent from heaven. He listened patiently to our tale of woe. Swept up in our sorry saga, he became our knight in shining armour (or more preciously in his shining KIA),and off we charged down the highway and through back streets non-stop to Colnbrook.  We pulled up outside the front of the house in question. “Wait for me” called Adolphe.” Don’t go there without me.”

As this stage we had concluded this was a house of ill-gotten gains. The headquarters for a cleverly disguised team of thieves operating in close collusion with the courier company which collected innocent travellers’ luggage, removed the contents, disposed of the bags, and sold the stolen goods on the Black Market. Monty, calm and collected, rang the ‘ring video doorbell’. A woman answered the intercom. She and her husband were in their car and informed us they would be home in 40 minutes. At that time, he would be happy to open the door and let us look for the luggage. In hindsight, they were obviously innocent bystanders in this crazy scenario. Surely they would have destroyed the air tag before now? Adolphe and I were behind Monty telling the poor homeowners we were going to call the police.

“Call them” she said. “This isn’t the first time it has happened with these Air Tags. Ask the woman next door. She’ll tell you.”

So what is one to do except go knock on the next door neighbour’s front door and query this information. They happily opened their door and confirmed the lady’s tale was true!

That’s it. A conspiracy is afoot. They’re in it together!

Our exasperation was palpable. ‘Sir Adolphe’ came to our rescue, kindly drove us to Heathrow Airport, free of charge, so that we could get to the bottom of this comedy of errors. We farewelled our new uber friend from the Congo, mustered up courage, and headed to the first official looking person we could see. He explained we should head to a phone in the terminal and the matter would be dealt with. Suddenly my emotions got the better of me. I welled up with tears and quietly sobbed on Monty’s shoulder. Forever dependable Monty listened attentively to the ‘official man’ who directed us to another staff member, who directed us to a Qatar staff member directing travellers, who then directed us to another Qatar staff member with a beautiful smiling face. His deference and demeanour are to be commended. He spent an inordinate amount of time reiterating our conundrum to ‘someone’ on the phone who finally deciphered the mysterious code we had been given by the Qatar lost baggage staff member at the very beginning of our saga. It took about 20 minutes to discover that, in fact, the bag had been collected from Heathrow. (Oh, hello. We already knew that thanks to our Air Tag.) We told him where the bag was. He didn’t know the address but informed us, very calmly, that it would indeed be delivered this evening. by Groundcare Couriers. Probably, I have cleverly deduced, the worst courier company in London.

As we hopped onto our Piccadilly line train to Holborn my phoned pinged me. It was the first, and only text, from the courier company telling us to expect our suitcase would be delivered to our hotel some time between 19:36 and 21:36. Relived we finally stepped out into the London night air in a concerted effort to at least see what we wanted to see, albeit in the dark. I had my heart set on having a drink and bite to eat at the Aqua Bar (The Shard), which we did achieve. It was wonderful. Highly recommend.

We finally crawled into bed well past midnight.

And yes, our suitcase did arrive late in the evening with contents intact. No thanks to Qatar. Although we will never know, I personally believe that had we not ventured to Heathrow to sort out the missing suitcase saga, it would probably be sitting at Doha airport, looking forlorn and unloved, not knowing how desperate the owner was wanting to find it.

At this stage, you’re probably asking yourself, why the hiatus? Surely, we could have waited it out patiently for another day and it would have (probably) turned up. The problem was Monty and I were leaving the next morning for Paris.

If you’re interested, and indeed I’m sure you are as you have gone this far into my verbose tale, we did make it on the Eurostar in one piece, luggage and all.

The air tags were definitely a good investment, Maybe they give you a false sense of security but we would rather that than not know where our luggage could be.