The Case of the Wandering Case

Oh, the things you do when you're awake at 3 a.m. :)

 “Ahhh,” sighed the melancholy suitcase, dejectedly scraping his left wheel against the floor of the baggage room. “I’ve always wanted to see London.”

“Where are you headed? Is this your first trip out of America?” asked a soft, lavender case to his right.

“Oh, heavens, no!” the forest-green suitcase replied. “I have been all over the world. Well-traveled is my middle name. Right now I’m on my way to Baku. Ever heard of it? Not surprised. There aren’t many who have. Why, this summer alone I have been in six different countries! Not to brag or anything, but I have actually crossed the International Dateline,” he paused significantly, waiting for the slightly surprised and definitely impressed “OOOOHHHH” to come from his neighbor. He was not disappointed.

“Wow!” she murmured in a hushed, even reverent tone. “I have never had such an experienced traveling companion.”

“Really? Is this your first time to cross the pond?”

“Actually, yes,” she replied, looking slightly embarrassed. “Audra (she is my packer) and I have not been very many places together yet, just back and forth between Muncie and Indianapolis while she was in college. She graduated in May, and after nearly four months in the closet I was beginning to think I would never see daylight again.

“Closets. Yuck. There’s nothing quite so claustrophobic as a closet. I mean, a suitcase was not meant to live in a closet. At least, I wasn’t, and I’m guessing you’re not too fond of them either. Why,” he continued,” bags like us, we were meant to be rolling around the world, not sitting at home collecting dust. But,” he said, remembering his manners and wanting to hear more from his soft-spoken companion, ”What brought you back to Indy?”

“Well, about two weeks ago, Audra uncovered me and pulled me out of the closet I had been buried in. Slightly puzzled (but very relieved to be breathing fresh air again), I lay there on the floor. While being filled, I heard the story. Lindsay, Audra’s best friend and roommate from college, had called her up and invited her to go to London for three weeks. It seems Lindsay’s dad had decided to give her and Audra a trip in honor of their graduation.”

“Sweet!” interjected the green case.

“I know! I was so excited that only the fact I was lying flat on the ground being filled with an increasing number of bulky and heavy objects kept me from rolling around the room in delight. This is my first real baggage tag.” She turned slightly so that he could see the black and white tag attached to her side handle. He examined it, turning what might have been a darker shade of green as he read that final BD, proclaiming London, his dream city, to be her final destination.

“Cool!” and then, with the melancholy creeping back into his voice, ”I wish I was goin’ with you. I bet you’ll have the time of your life. Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, the changing of the guards, Big Ben, taxis. . . “ he trailed off, rotating to the left to hide his watery eyes.

As he turned, the purple bag caught sight of his tag. “Wait!” she cried, “Your tag says BD too! You ARE going to London!”

“No, it’s just a short layover. Only three hours. Barely time to make my connection (especially if the luggage workers are having tea). No. No time for sightseeing. For a few minutes when I first got down here I was ecstatic. When the lady at the counter up the belt first printed off my tag she didn’t add the Baku connection so London was my final destination. Since I’m a little on the heavy-set side, one of the other workers was quick to put me on the belt and send me on my way. I had it made, or so I thought. Unfortunately, Elly (my packer) caught the mistake. A new tag was sent down, and now I’m just passing through.” He sighed.

Not a naturally sad-sack, the green case shrugged his melancholy off. “One of these days, though, I’m gonna get there,” he added with a touch of his earlier good-humor creeping back into his voice. “You make sure you hit all the high points. Maybe our flight-paths will cross again in some airport down the road, and you’ll have to tell me all about it.” He grinned at his companion.

“What if. . . . what if your layover turned into a longer stay? Then you could get out and see the sights, right?”

“What? Well, yeah, I guess. Not much chance of that happening though.”

“One would only really need one night to see the main sights,” she continued thoughtfully, “I mean, more time would be nice, but if a night is all there is. .  .”

The green case stared at her, starting to connect the dots, starting to figure out just what she was suggesting. “Are you suggesting that I deliberately miss my flight?”

Just as she was about to answer the conveyor belt that would carry them out of the baggage room and onto their flight roared to life. She nodded, smiling mischievously at him.

It only took about five seconds, if even that, for him to warm up to the idea. Soon he was grinning so big he almost popped a zipper. The room’s handler picked him up and tossed him onto the belt right behind the lavender case. He rolled a little closer to his new friend, and they plotted and schemed as the belt carried them up to the tarmac and onto their plane.

Just imagine Elly’s surprise the next day when she arrived in Baku to find that her green suitcase had not made it. When she called the airline baggage control, she learned that her bag had somehow been left in London and would be arriving that next evening.

Sure enough, the case arrived around 11:30, looking none the worse for wear despite the unexpected detour. She rolled it home to unpack, blissfully unaware of all the suitcase on the end of the handle had experienced, the adventures and the tale of friendship he now had to tell. If only she knew. . .