Ah yes, Le Carousel. With bags on it.
I never travel with more than a carry-on. Never. Not even when I have a trip that covers three dramatically different climates and two continents. I consider myself a Master Packer and am confident that it – along with parallel parking – is a category in which I could easily medal at the Olympic level.
Waiting at the luggage carousel completely short-circuits my internal Efficiency Sensor, which is why I limit myself to a carry-on. So imagine my consternation when I checked in on Sunday and was told that since it was a full flight, rollerboards were going to have to be checked.
Does. Not. Compute.
So, here is what went through my head while waiting to claim my bag:
Is this the right carousel? Or is that the right carousel?
Let’s see… do I recognize anyone from my flight?
Did I pay attention well enough to know who was on my flight?
Where is white-haired guy who sat in front of me and told jokes so loudly it was obvious he thought he was a comedian?
Oh – there he is! Along with the woman who fake laughs at everything!
Nice! They finally are serving a purpose other than annoying the shit out of me.
I must be at the right carousel.
Carousel? Who decided to call this a luggage CAROUSEL, anyway?
That makes it sound like it should have ponies on it carrying my bag. That would actually be cool. But messy.
I guess Lazy-Luggage-Susan didn’t inspire confidence.
Speaking of: Why Susan? What is it called a Lazy Susan?
This would've been me, if my bag hadn't appeared.
And knowing that word exists, why would anyone name their child Susan?
Way to handicap your child. Nice work, parents.
I wonder if they name Susan’s brother “Good-for-Nothing?”
OK. So let’s get this lazy-luggage-susan moving. Why isn’t it moving?
We’ve been on the ground for over 20 minutes.
I’ve managed to deplane from the last row, pee and walk the entire length of the terminal and I still beat the first bag? What?
I should really be an efficiency consultant. I could help them get this party started.
[Luggage carousel screeches into motion and bags begin tumbling off conveyor belt.]
Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No.
Why is there a pair of boxer shorts riding around on the carousel? Gross.
Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No.
OK. Who packed THAT bag? It’s HUGE. I hope they are moving here and not just visiting.
I could be a packing consultant and help them travel lighter.
Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No.
Uh oh. I wonder if my bag made it?
I am going to be pissed if my bag is missing. My new boots are in there!
Did I throw away the claim ticket they gave me? Uh oh.
I hope they didn’t lose my bag. How will I get it back without the claim ticket?
Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No.
Why is there a five year old child clogging up valuable real estate right next to the carousel?
He’s going to be in my way when my bag shows up. IF my bag shows up.
Where are his parents?
Someone needs to tell them to get their kid out of the way.
Somehow, I don’t think “parenting consultant” is something I’m qualified to do.
Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag? No. Is that my bag???
YES! That’s my bag. FINALLY.
As I wheeled it away, I could feel someone’s eyes boring into me. It was a petite blonde woman who had claimed a gigantic suitcase that she could easily have fit in. I saw her eyeing my bag and my outfit with the same look of disdain I had probably been wearing when sizing up her bag.
And if I had to guess, I bet SHE was thinking, “Wow. I could totally be a fashion consultant and help that poor girl out. She hardly packed anything.”
Turns out, everyone’s a consultant.
I love it! Hilarious. I’m a classic over-packer, but no fashion sense whatsoever, so fail, fail. Boy, all distaining eyes would have been on me.
Of course, I NEVER judge.
Never! BTW… sometimes I over do it. I’ve had to purchase underwear before because I severely under-packed. I guess it’s not always a blessing.
Hahahahaha… “I got my boots…but no underwear.”
When you said your boots were in that bag, my over-packing mind was spinning. It was just too hard for me to imagine.
I would love to have one of Hermione’s extendable charms for my luggage – I would bring everything. And never touch half of it! When we went to the beach, I brought clothes for every day. Then I wore a bathing suit all week and the same 2 sets of lounge around clothes nearly every day. Of course, I had underwear to spare.
hahaha! I am also known for this. Hooray for good company!
Oh, that was hilarious. I am a bad packer, worse dresser, and am severely lacking in the patiently waiting for luggage department. I could probably benefit from a few consultants or perhaps inpatient treatment.
I’ll let you know when I launch my multi-faceted consulting business. I picture it looking like Lucy from Peanuts, with a sign that just says, “Advice.” Or maybe I should just print up business cards that say, “Consultant, Unsolicited Advice?”
Yeah, my brain works like that, but I can’t keep up with it enough to write it down. Amazing that you can, though. I love it! 🙂
I think that just means I’m narcissistic. I pay too much attention to my own thoughts.
I don’t think i could do it – just a carryon. even if it’s just a single-destination trip, i always think, ‘what if?’… what if it rains, freak-snowstorms, is unusually warm/cold for this time of year, i find myself suddenly required to have a business-casual outfit on my vacation? WHAT IF?! freaks me out. I’d hire you to pack for me… except that I hardly ever go anywhere… and lack funds… but still, if you do improve luggage susans, make sure to improve them in canada too!
Lexy, I should TRY to think like you. It’s awkward when you try to go into a cathedral wearing shorts and tank top.
Your stream of consciousness is running parallel to my river of randomness.
Which might just intersect my Boulevard of Bullshit, no?
I pack like you, enough to do the holiday and no more.
Which means you can’t order anything with a tomato sauce, start your day with coffee or laugh too hard at jokes while you’re traveling.
I’m the complete opposite–I NEVER carry on. I’m a chronic overpacker and bring clothes for all four seasons in one trip. I hate not being prepared. I could never go backpacking because I’d break my back with all that extra stuff. Or, maybe, that’s exactly what I need to do to learn my lesson!