I don’t know what to think. I have been going around on this carousel for two days now and I have no idea where my mom is. She is always there usually when I arrive on the carousel … waiting for me with a big smile. Now there is just a hall full of angry strangers. People pushing me over while they check my baggage tag just to see if I might belong to them. They should know I don’t belong to them. For goodness sake, I am a pink and gold suitcase with fluffies tied onto the handle. I’m an original.
I have always been quite happy to travel and don’t mind being in the hold with all those other common types – you know, cheap Walmart style suitcases. Not my type at all. But this Christmas it all fell apart.
It started at check-in – you know that wonderful invention – the do-it-yourself baggage check. First, my mom has to figure out printing the baggage tag and then fiddles around fastening it to my handle. Ouch, careful! Then she took me over to the self-check but what the heck? There was a lineup of 10 people just waiting to put their bags through the machine and the rollers were not moving. The humans standing around were getting pretty mad.
“Jeez, this is bullshit” shouted the one guy. “Hush” said his wife, looking embarrassed. But as the time passed by the other people in the line up started to get angry. Someone suggested that the airline had just pushed the button to stop the rollers so that they could make up time somewhere else along the line. Two airline staff walked past at this stage looking anywhere but in our direction.
Eventually the rollers jerked into life and my mom laid me down gently on them (she is a sweetie) and I trundled off …. into hell. OMG there were millions of bags and very few baggage handlers. What has happened here? How will I get on the plane to travel with my mom? Everyone around me was moaning. Mr Golf Bag said he had been there for three hours already and was sure he had missed his plane. Ms Gucci said that she couldn’t understand why she would have to hang around with such low company seeing as she was travelling business. Everyone had questions, nobody had answers.
As the hours ticked by the only sound was the thump, bump and ouches of the new bags coming down the rollers to join the club. “Oh no” said one LuluLemon holdall. “Don’t tell me there is another baggage pile up”.
“Oh yeah” shouted Blue Samsonite “Welcome to the club. Anyone feel like going for a spin? I gotta get some exercise!”
We sat there for hours and then suddenly there was movement. Before we knew it we were being loaded up onto carts and trundled across the tarmac. Oh yay – I thought. Finally we are getting underway to Toronto – won’t be long now and I can pop off my lid, empty my contacts and squeeze my way under the bed. Can’t wait.
Hang on – what did that Duffel Bag say? Can’t wait to get to Dallas? What???? Dallas. I can’t go to Dallas. I need to go to Toronto. OMG – can nobody read my baggage tag. Why do they bother giving these things bar codes if they don’t bother to read them properly.
So here I am, in Dallas. Going round and round and round. Eventually most of the other bags got picked up by their moms and dads and it was just me and some butt ugly wheeled backpack going round and round. I just tried to ignore him. Don’t mix with this type.
Suddenly a man came over to me and pulled out my baggage tag to scan it. “Hey, hombre!” he said to someone behind him. “This case needs to go to Toronto”.
“OK, keep your calzones on buddy” shouted someone back. “I got it!” With a heave and a bump and a bang I was landed on another cart. OMG – do you think I am going to get home finally? I will have to write a book.
There I am – waiting patiently!