Frequent Flier: When Your Laptop’s Flight Is More Interesting Than Yours

I RUN my global project management business virtually. So my backpack contains everything I need for work: my iPhone, G.P.S. locator, emergency snacks and, of course, my laptop, my link to the world and my business.

Michelle LaBrosse runs Cheetah Learning in Carson City, Nev.

When I fly, I almost always carry my backpack aboard. A few months ago when I had to speak at an engagement in Chicago, I had to check it with baggage because I was injured from a freak accident. My Harley fell on my leg (don’t ask), and I was having a tough time maneuvering.

I got to Chicago just fine. Unfortunately, my laptop found a new home in South America.

When I discovered my laptop was missing, I was frantic. I immediately notified the airline, the authorities in Oakland and everyone in my company. All of the data was backed up, but it was still an incredible hassle. I was worried about possible security implications and I had to do some housekeeping, which included changing my passwords and my instant messenger, or I.M. name. Plus, I had to shell out cash to buy a new laptop.

No one ever contacted me about my missing computer. And to tell you the truth, I thought it was in a computer chop shop someplace.

But a month after the incident, I received an I.M. from my assistant who told me that my old I.M. name from that missing laptop was being used online. I.M. would automatically come online any time my computer was connected to the Internet. The user spoke Spanish and identified himself as a fellow named Rafa.

Rafa lived in Nicaragua and was looking for a girlfriend. We decided to supply him one in the guise of a woman we named “Bonnie.” Our hope was that we could recover my laptop.

My team, several of whom are conversant in Spanish, pretended to be “Bonnie,” kept I.M. conversations going with Rafa for two days. They even sent him a photo of “Bonnie,” a gorgeous, young woman we knew, who agreed to have her picture used in our sting operation.

After Rafa received “Bonnie’s” picture, he was smitten, ending I.M. messages with “I love you” and “You’re so beautiful.”

He gave us his full name, address, phone number, age, and told us that he worked at his father’s car dealership. We contacted authorities in Nicaragua, the United States Consulate, the F.B.I., the T.S.A. and pretty much anyone we could think of.

No one seemed eager to help. So we tried another tack by having “Bonnie” reveal she was in the business of buying and selling computers.

Rafa told us the brand and model number of his laptop (it was mine) and said that it was a gift from a relative in the United States who, by the way, works for a company that makes baggage handling systems. Go figure.

Eventually, Rafa got peeved at “Bonnie,” for wanting to talk more about the laptop, than their budding relationship. In a final message, Rafa signed off with “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” We never heard from him again so we gave up the cyberchase.

Fortunately, Rafa wasn’t malicious, just a naïve young man looking for love. My team likes to call the caper, “When Rafa met Bonnie.” We do hope Rafa meets the girl of his dreams. But we hope that next time he’ll use his own computer.

By Michelle LaBrosse, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

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