Showing posts with label don't talk to strangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label don't talk to strangers. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Luggage Carousel Gold Mine

18 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
I was so desperately wishing that:

  • This would have been tagged with a fluorescent orange Air Canada "priority baggage" tag, stuck somewhere. Anywhere.
  • Someone came running back to the luggage carousel, out of breath, exclaiming "THERE they are!!"
  • That I could have temporarily ignored my disdain for germs and run to the carousel, shouting back at The New Husband AKA the Former Feyoncé™, "Honey, honey! I got them! Don't worry, the carousel didn't put a hole in 'em!"
  • People wouldn't hear my non-smart-phone's EXTRA LOUD shutter sound whenever I take a photo, thereby completely revealing that I took a shot of this rarely-seen luggage carousel gold mine:





There, in the centre, lies a balled-up pair of men's underwear. So lovely.

Everyone had several snickers at the undies, as they toured around the carousel about 20 times before Air Canada finally started spitting out baggage. I pity the fool whose luggage landed on those underwear, and can only hope they were a CLEAN balled up pair of orphaned underwear.

Once the couple beside me realized I had taken a photo, (you know, and after they accepted the fact that I was very odd), we all made cracked some solid one-liners to each other. I think it is the first and only time another traveller has ever spoken to me at the baggage carousel.

The moral of the story?

ORPHANED UNDERPANTS UNITE.

Also?

The New Husband AKA the Former Feyoncé™ is the zipper king.

Bow down before him. Or whatever.



Also?

I was still totally buzzed upon arrival after those 3 triples in the departure lounge. But at least this wasn't an I-remember-seeing-random-underwear-in-the-airport-while-drunk stories with no photographic evidence. I took those photos to share with YOU, dear reader.

Once again, you're welcome.

Or whatever.
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