In this week's episode: The Evil Luggage Carousel

I wanted to mention one other aspect of the suitcase losing ordeal - specifically how the luggage carousel at the Edmonton Airport is designed to maximize frustration in the event of lost baggage.

The luggage carousel at the Edmonton airport is split in half by a wall. On one side of the wall, the airline passengers have access to the baggage on the carousel. On the other side, the airline employees presumably (and ideally) place the baggage onto the conveyor belt. To get from one side of the wall to the other, the conveyor belt (and luggage) must pass through openings in the wall, which are curtained with black rubber blinds that shield us from knowing the terrifying truth about what happens on the other side of the wall. These curtains are only pushed aside by luggage passing from one realm to the other.

Each suitcase then takes the following voyage. To make this description more entertaining, I suggest you assume that this journey is accompanied by Raymond Scott's Powerhouse (see this link for the full composition). First, the suitcase is placed on the conveyor belt by an employee. The suitcase then passes through the opening and is available to be retrieved by the passengers. The suitcase is then either claimed, or it is taken by the conveyor belt to a second opening which leads back to the employee side of the wall. The suitcase then continues this journey until it is removed from the carousel by an employee or an airline passenger.

After most of the crowd has collected their luggage and moved on, us unlucky few are left to stare agonizingly at those black rubber blinds that cover the entrance to the passenger side of the wall, endlessly waiting for it to our turn to skip to the conveyor belt, collect our luggage, and merrily be on our way. And every time those blinds begin to buckle so as to allow some suitcase to pass, you momentarily have some hope. "It might be my bag this time," you think. You even manage to convince yourself that you are finally going to get to leave this miserable place.

But of course, it is not your bag that peeks through those black rubber blinds. It is that same stupid hard-plastic neon pink suitcase that has already made at least 30 trips around the carousel while you have been waiting. The few of us who have not already taken our frustration out on some poor airport employee are left to sigh in disgust and wait until our spirits have been fully broken by the next appearance of that hideously cruel bag.

I really hate that hard-plastic neon pink suitcase. I really do.