I like watching people get their luggage at the airport. It was not a past time by choice but one foisted on me because no matter where we go, my luggage is guaranteed to be one of the last ones unpacked from the plane.
Everyone shoves and pushes and runs to get off the plane. You risk your life, standing before the seat belt sign is switched off, fighting off the older and disabled to be able to take the aisle position so you can stand with your heavy bags for the hour before they get docked and open the door and the 582 people ahead of you get off the plane. Then you run and push and get to the walkways that move before other passengers do. You actually WALK on the moving walk-way because you want to get out. You push in front of other people in every line-up and make it to the luggage ramp.
And then you wait. And while you wait, everyone you shoved and pushed joins you. Even the handicapped people get there. And then the luggage starts to drop … and like I said, mine is always last. Yay me.
I always think the time around the luggage ramps is special. You get to eyeball all your fellow passengers. The man who insisted on stretching his legs out pushing your feet from where you wanted to place them on the floor beneath your own seat up and under the seat in front of you, which is special because in order for them to do they have to be pancaked and crammed under a steel bar. Now that dude has to stand beside me and deal with my death stare. Ask my children how that went for them. They actually used to have couple more brothers and sisters. Few people survive the death stare.
The people with the kids that made everyone's flight miserable have to negotiate the whole sea of us to get their cart, their luggage, and their kids. Hell hath no fury like a plane full of people that had to deal with a bratty kid, or a screaming kid, or a vomiting kid whose parents sat with their ear-phones on and seemed to think the entire plane was there just for them and the rest of us were babysitters who adored their precious children. I loved the mom, who on one of the flights I took, held her baby up in the aisle facing all of us, while he threw up on the floor. She was safe. We all had vomit rolling down the aisle towards our feet and our baggage that the attendants insisted we place there for our "safety." A whole plane with their feet up in the air, the smell was unbelievable and the mother sat back down, put her headphones on and rocked the baby to sleep. Later, just in case we had gotten used to the vomit smell and were settling in again, she changed a dirty diaper on the aisle floor while the attendants were clearly napping.
If a whole family (yes mom, dad, grandma and 5 children) went missing that day, no-one would be able to convict anyone. A whole plane full of people would have to be considered suspects and anything they did would have been justified.
That didn't happen, but it
should have could have.
I have no idea what happened to all their bags and the kid's Elmo that had his head ripped off, well … who can really say …
It is interesting to see everyone's choice of luggage. I always think, I get to hold a suitcase for two seconds before I hand it in at the airport and the people there throw it, bang it, stand on it, search through it, play football with it, run the forklift over it, over and over again. I am not going to stress about whether it is pretty. I want durable. Hubby has a canvas suitcase that he has had almost 50 years. It is in awesome shape, no scratches on it, and packs like a dream. It is dull green, ugly as heck. I don't care. Yes, I told you, I am old. I am into practical. I don't wear killer heels when I travel anymore either. When you are this close to death, you stay away from killer anything. I would wear my pajamas on the plane if my hubby would let me. What do I care if there are good looking people going to exotic places on the plane? I can't see them anyway. And if I could .. what am I supposed to do with them?
You always have the people who have the brand new luggage who pick it up off the conveyor and are so upset that there is a dent in it or a scratch … like what did you think was going to happen? No-one cares about pretty behind that conveyer belt door you watch your luggage disappear into at the check in. They care about their coffee break and about getting a bonus if they can load the plane fast enough. They hate all of us for lying about how much our bags weigh, or for offering sexual favours or money to the front desk people so they will slap on an "OK" tag. So it is only natural they hate our bags.
If I was going to break into someone's suitcase, I would choose the pretty ones. Those people must have money to throw away on stupid things. They will have expensive perfume and cosmetics. Mine has dollar store hand cream and a half used soap on a rope. They will have designer clothes. Mine has sweat pants. So you might score some awesome drugs . No-one gets a high from taking constipation remedies or estrogen cream. Pack your stuff in an older ugly bag and you are pretty much safe.
I wonder if those people buy a new set each trip?
And what about the people who have every single piece of a set? Don't they think they are special? I always think they are complete weirdos. I want to tell them that they don't need to use every single piece. I mean how practical is it to have a bag that you can only fit 4 pairs of underwear or one shoe into? I want to tell them they are supposed to just pick a couple of pieces that best fit their needs. But I would give them bonus points if their luggage also matches her shoes, his shirt and the bonnet on the baby carriage.
I love the women who carry a makeup box with them. They usually sit waiting for the plane, powdering their nose. Who can use that much makeup? What is in there? Paint cans and plaster? I wonder why they feel the need to carry that with them when most of us manage to travel to far away destinations and are able to look decent when we get off with a quick comb through, a brush of the teeth, a washcloth, tube of mascara, some touch-up cream and lipstick. That is a ziplock bag tucked in your purse. But these women need trays that lift out. Must - be - coiffed.
The fact is I use a lot of ziplock bags. Yes, I am an old lady. Am I annoying you enough? I work hard at being able to fulfill my elderly duties. You should see me pinch cheeks. I like doing that while we wait for the luggage to drop. I especially like to pinch the cheeks of the dude with the legs. If you pinch hard enough, he can't even feel his legs anymore.
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