"A mysterious change seems to come over Americans when they go to a foreign land."

Or, it's really not such a big, freakin' mystery when this is what you have to go through:
On Monday I was happy to see that at least most of our luggage made it to the airport.
On Tuesday I was hopeful that our two hour trip to the airport to get the bag would be fruitful, it wasn't.
On Wednesday I waited.
On Thursday I was productive. I called American Airlines no less than 3 times, and managed to get my bag out of Costa Rica and into Barranquilla.
On Friday I was cooperative, "Oh, the reason why you haven't delivered the bag is because you lost my address? Well, I'm pretty sure I've given that to you three or four times, but let me say it again. Do you have a pen ready?"
By Saturday I was pleading, "I don't understand why you're doing this to me."
And today I turned into The Ugly American. I started to force people to speak to me in English, I even threatened to call my lawyer (I don't have a lawyer). I was a bully. My behavior was terrible, and I feel like a bad person. But, I did get my bag back.