Sunday, 4:36 p.m., Denver airport: Just arrived on flight from D.C. Eyeballs bugging out of sockets. Spend 30 minutes desperately scouring two separate circulating luggage carousels looking for lost luggage — a black bag which apparently was quite a big seller last Christmas since every other bag coming around looks exactly like it.

4:48 p.m.: Scanning crowd for enterprising conventioneer who obviously snatched the thing and is probably on a laptop at this very moment selling my underwear and jeans on eBay Europe.

4:54 p.m.: I explain to a smiley-faced airport worker that one of my bags arrived, but not the other. She reassures me that bags “get separated” all the time and that mine is probably on a later flight. Realizing that the airport is 238 miles from downtown Denver, I suspect I will be dealing with this crisis for at least the next 72 hours.

5:22 p.m.: Since I am evidently well thought-of in the Obama camp, with all those personalized “Dear Jim” e-mails, I consider asking Sen. Obama to postpone his speech a few days, just until I can get myself sorted out.

5:47 p.m.: Adrenaline really flowing. Two concerns: Which of the two bags is my underwear actually in, and would it be a federal offense to concoct story that lost bag contained $50,000 in small bills that I planned to distribute to the city’s homeless?

6:17 p.m., Denver airport taxi stand: Lost bag has been found. Smiling taxi driver loads both bags into cab and slams trunk shut.

6:17:30 p.m.: Still-smiling taxi driver informs me that he has locked his keys in the cab.

6:25 p.m.: Behind schedule from luggage fiasco, I watch from curbside as hundreds of other cabs loaded with happy, fully luggaged, non-locked-out conventioneers navigate around us while still-smiling taxi guy searches for coat hanger.

6:43 p.m.: I make hand signals to passing conventioneers so they know traffic jam not my fault. Tricky bit of choreography since I am also now sending my dear friend Barack an e-mail about that schedule change idea. If he can’t postpone things, maybe he could at least send one of his Secret Service guys with a coat hanger.

7:20 p.m.: Hanger eventually located. I consider ripping it out of smiley taxi guy’s hand and using it for an entirely different purpose. Note to self: On top of $50,000 lost cash conviction, wondering how much hard federal time I would be facing.

Monday, 10:32 a.m., Braun’s Bar and Grill: Early in day, I know, but lost-luggage-taxicab-lock-out episodes still eating at me. Who can blame me? Braun’s website promises “a full range of flavors and atmosphere to suit any whim.” Apparently enough for Fox News to commandeer entire establishment and transform it into a television network for the duration of convention.

10:45 a.m.: Exploring Braun’s. Equipment everywhere. Cameras. Lights. Computers. Control panels. Just about every type of high-tech gizmo jammed into every square inch of place.

10:52 a.m.: Now in basement bar area. Sitting in makeshift makeup room that will return to being mop closet when Foxers leave town and head for St. Paul. Combo smell of industrial bar-floor cleaning fluid and Laura Mercier Crème Moisturizer SPF 20. Like nothing you will ever experience unless you have been abducted by aliens.

11:20 a.m.: On set with Fox anchor Shep Smith. Surprisingly not worried about anything. Having really good time mixing it up with other panelists.

11:32 a.m.: In between camera shots I give everyone cryptic hand signals so they know Mills not responsible for otherworldly alien abduction smells.

11:45 a.m.: Receive BlackBerry message from my dear friend Barack, who is apologizing for the lack of attention to previous day’s coat hanger matter. He explains that he delegated it to some new guy he just hired named Joe. Fell through cracks. Says he hopes episode doesn’t damage our relationship. Proceeds to ask for money to help launch new initiative just created by a wunderkind Denver conventioneer. Something about raising cash by selling “lost” American luggage overseas. Not a bad idea. Wish I had thought of that.

You can reach Jim Mills at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it