Yesterday, I touched on the experience of air travel with a small child. And once we arrived safely back in Newark, I was reminded of a rather annoying rite of passage that takes place at baggage claims throughout the world.
Those people.
You know them- the ones who don't seem to remember what their luggage looks like, despite the fact they had it in their possession mere hours earlier. Sorting through each suitcase, regardless of color or shape, hoping for signs of identification that this is the bag containing their personal effects. Okay, maybe your black bag you looks similar to the one you are trying to pick up- but do you see the big red ribbon tied to the handle?? Do you remember tying a big red ribbon to the handle of your bag? No? Then it's probably not your bag.
One of these morons got me in trouble one time. A woman was struggling to get her bag off the carousel, so I assisted her in retrieving it. And she put it down next to her, and proceeded to wait for more bags to come out. A short time later a man came over to me and began to yell at me that I had his bag. "I don't have your bag," I replied. "I saw you take it off the carousel!" he said to me, at which point I realized the bag I had helped the lady with was sitting next to me, although the woman no longer was. I tried to explain that it was the woman's fault, that I didn't know it wasn't her bag, she hadn't said anything to me. He was stuck on the fact that it was his bag, and I had taken it, and I should really check to see who bag it is before pulling it out, yada yada yada. It gets cloudy here, but as I recall, I may have called him him an asshole and told him to take his friggin' bag and leave me the hell alone, or something of the sort. This could have been avoided had the lady I helped said to me- "Oh my, this isn't my bag." At which point we could have put it back on the carousel, and Jerky McJerkerson could retrieve when it came around to him, and we'd all head home much less elevated blood pressure levels.
So the other night, weary from travel with our baby, I am waiting at the baggage claim for our luggage- which as fortune would have it, I can identify without having to put my hands all over each article that passes. Not so much for the woman in front of me. And when she struggled to pull a suitcase off the carousel, I steered clear as other Samaritans helped shoulder the load. Once they got the bag on the ground for her, she proceeded to unzip the top of the bag, and look at its contents, so as to decipher whether or not this was her suitcase. Because looking the name tag hanging off of it wouldn't give her quicker, more accurate information. Leaving the bag sitting next to her, she continued to wait at the carousel, presumably for other pieces of luggage she had checked. You can see where this is going. As I wait- it's not too crowded- I see her starting to inch away from the bag. My wife returns from the restroom with our little one, and I apprise her of the situation. "I'm pretty sure that's not her bag," I say after relaying what I had been watching. Once the lady had moved about five feet from the suitcase, I approached her and asked if that was her bag. "No," she replied, as if she had never seen it before- and proceeded to walk away, leaving her douche-baggery in her wake. So as to avoid any further baggage claim altercations, I picked up the bag and put it back on it's it merry way. Now who's the good Samaritan??
Here's a suggestion to these treasures of the gene pool- get a suitcase that had your name emblazoned on it in foot-tall lettering. Get one that's magenta or chartreuse. One that has a speaker built into it that say's "I'm your bag. I'm your bag. I'm your bag." Because the whole name tag or ribbon on the handle- none of these tried and true methods of bag-recognition seem to be enough for you. Or pack lightly and carry-on. Or do us all a favor and take the bus. Nobody wants to deal with your baggage.
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