The Baggage Handler by David Rawlings

Author:David Rawlings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2019-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

18

“Dah dah dah, dah dah dahhh.”

David couldn’t place the tune that wafted in through the open door. It was both familiar and yet elusive. He was sure he’d heard it before. Hundreds of times before.

“Dah dah dah, dah dah dahhh.” Whistling, the Baggage Handler strolled into the waiting room.

David scanned the black suitcase on the cart the Baggage Handler trailed behind him, searching for confirmation. This time it was the right flash of red: his alumni baggage tags, the mighty Rams.

“Finally.” David rose from the sofa. This mix-up had cost him an hour of his precious two-hour extension. “You will be hearing from my lawyer.”

The Baggage Handler shrugged as he spun the cart and placed the baggage in front of David. He tipped his Baggage Services cap and stood, maddeningly silent.

David exhaled his frustration. “Would you like to help me get out of this place?”

“I’d love to.” The Baggage Handler stood back with a sweep of his arm toward the door. “After you.”

David strode forward and grabbed the handle of his suitcase—and almost pulled his arm out of its socket as the baggage remained stuck to the floor. He rubbed his throbbing shoulder and then looked at his suitcase, at the Baggage Handler, and at the suitcase again. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and again tried to lift it, but it wasn’t moving. It was glued to the ground. His pulse thumped in his ears, and his stomach grumbled under the stress of yet another delay.

“What is going on here? What have you done to my suitcase?”

The Baggage Handler checked his clipboard. “Nothing. You can check the baggage tags if you like.”

“I know it’s mine! Those are my baggage tags! What have you people done? Why can’t I lift it?”

The Baggage Handler shrugged. “You saw me lift it with no problem. And it’s locked.”

David tried again to lift his suitcase, but it still wasn’t moving. He closed his eyes and breathed hard. Then the reason for this entire shambles of a trip dawned on him. It was the only rational explanation. No car at the airport. A sweaty, incense-infused cab ride. Someone else’s bag. Now this.

The smallest laugh escaped his lips. He knew what was going on.

“Okay, enough already! If this is some kind of prank for a TV show . . .” He shot glances into every corner of the room, looking for hidden cameras in the ceiling, in the fruit bowl, anywhere. “You’ve got hidden cameras somewhere. Congratulations, you got me.” He bowed to the fruit bowl, where he was sure the hidden camera was. “Whoever has put up this prank, you can come out now. Julian? I presume it’s you.”

It was the only explanation that made sense.

But the Baggage Handler hadn’t moved. “What are you talking about, David?”

“Well, it’s obvious this is a prank. That explains everything. I fly into the city for a meeting, but somehow my suitcase is mixed up. There isn’t a limousine waiting for me. Head office treats me like some kind of leper.

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