Under Control

Anyone who has ever been to an airport has experienced this.

            “This is a common sense safety announcement…” Jonathan rolled his eyes. People were dumb, but airport safety announcements were dumber. “…Please keep your luggage under control…” As if it would just walk away if you did not hold it down. “…Do not leave your luggage unattended or with a stranger at anytime. If you see suspicious luggage, please report it to airport security…” Shouldn’t they have already apprehended anything suspicious at the security checkpoint? Wasn’t that their job—their only job?

            Jonathan sighed and turned his attention back to his crossword. Alluringly plump, six letters. What a horrible clue. F and T were in the middle, but that did not help Jonathan much. Islamic genies, also six letters. This one Jonathan knew! It was on the tip of his tongue. He concentrated.

Nearby, a baby began bawling. The weatherman on the television overhead was predicting mild thunderstorms. Aerosmith blasted from the headphones of the teenager sitting next to him. Jonathan realized that he was no longer trying to remember what Islamic genies were called. Instead his mind was blank, simply absorbing everything around him.

A flight for Japan was called: Tokyo, flight number 5591. The teenager rose. Jonathan did not know how the kid had heard the announcement over his music.

A second baby broke into a wail. Jonathan had noticed that no matter where one sat in an airport, or on an airplane for that matter, one was guaranteed to be within earshot of at least half a dozen children aged three or younger.

Suddenly a shadow fell upon Jonathan. “Excuse me,” a voice like chocolate said. Jonathan looked up to see a man that matched. Skin as dark as crude oil, as smooth as melted dark chocolate, the man was striking in his impeccably sharp suit.

Jonathan had long been jealous of such men. They could wear nearly anything and the color of their skin allowed them to look suave and debonair. Someone of Jonathan’s pigmentation, dressed similarly, would be taken for a lothario.

“Sorry to be a bother, but I wonder if I might beg a favor.” The man’s voice was deep enough that it rumbled through Jonathan’s chest as well as his ears. In that moment, knowing nothing further about the man beyond the way he looked and spoke, Jonathan was filled with respect and the desire to please.

“No bother at all. I was just giving up on my puzzle.” Jonathan held up the crossword.

“Perhaps I could help you as well. Any clues in particular that have you stumped?”

“As a matter of fact, yes: Islamic genies…and alluringly plump. Both six letters. I know the word for Islamic genies, but I can’t quite come up with it.”

“Djinns, I believe.”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“Any letters for the other clue?

“Yes. F and T are the two center letters.”

“Out of six?”
            “That’s right.”

“Would you mind watching my bag for a moment? I need to visit the WC.”

“No problem. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Thank you so much. And I’ll think about that clue while I’m gone.” With a wink the man turned and made his way toward the nearest restroom.

Jonathan glanced down to make sure that the bag was close enough that no one would mistakenly think it was unattended. It was a normal carry-on bag: it stood upright with two wheels and an extendable handle. It almost looked brand new, but the nametag attached to the handle was wrinkled and worn. Somehow the smooth man had managed to keep his bag in supremely good condition. Jonathan smiled. The bag was clearly under control.

Often, when seated for a long time, Jonathan’s back developed aches and sometimes even shooting pains. One such pang jolted through him and a dull ache grew in the aftermath of the strike. He had learned years before that the only way to alleviate the pain was to get his feet up. Unfortunately, he carried a backpack when flying, which was not helpful when he needed a footrest. He eyed the solid, erect bag in front of him.

A moment’s hesitation, then Jonathan slipped his shoes off and propped his feet up on the kind man’s bag. Surely he would understand when Jonathan explained. The pain began to subside almost immediately. Someday, Jonathan would have to visit a doctor and find a more permanent solution.

Looking back at his crossword, Jonathan heaved a sigh. Still stumped. The bag shifted beneath his feet. Wheels must have slipped, he thought, and slouched a bit more in his seat to accommodate the new position.

Alluringly plumped, he mused. A woman waddled by who was certainly plump, but did not qualify as alluring, at least, not in Jonathan’s mind.

The bag slammed to the floor with a resounding clack. Jonathan was slouching so far that he nearly slipped off his seat completely with the loss of his foot support. A jab of pain went up his spine.

Somewhat embarrassed, Jonathan shot a look in the direction of the restroom. The owner of the bag was not in sight. Jonathan stood. The extendable handle had popped out. He bent down and grabbed the handle to right the bag.

As soon as Jonathan’s hand grasped the grip, it slid back into place. In the process, the tips of all of Jonathan’s fingers were pinched. A gasp of disbelief was all he could manage before the handle whipped back out to its extended position.

For a moment Jonathan was sure that he had only imagined that the bag had acted strangely. His fingers began to smart. Nope, it definitely had happened. His back was also sending unhappy messages to his brain as he was still bent over.

Jonathan straightened up, bringing the bag with him. They both stood still. Jonathan stared at the bag. Now that he focused more closely on the carry-on he noticed that it was not in as mint of condition as he had first thought. The little black wheels were worn and the deep blue fabric obscured several long scratches that traversed the sides from top to bottom. The inside of the well where the handle retracted to also showed usage.

Scrutinizing the bag as hard as he was it is not surprising that Jonathan noticed the movement the exact second it began. The bag was slowly but steadily scooting away from Jonathan’s seat. He put his free hand on top of the bag and pushed down to keep it stationary. It slowed and stopped.

Breathing a bit heavily, Jonathan stared at the luggage and wondered what was happening. His eyes widened even further when it resumed sliding across the floor. He pushed down as hard as he could. The bag was as hard as a marble pillar.

Bent over with one hand on the handle and the other pressing down on top of the bag, Jonathan looked like he was merely trying to get the handle down. Not that he was worried what he looked like. The crossword lay forgotten on the floor. Jonathan had a new puzzle to occupy his mind.

The bag seemed to be gradually moving faster as Jonathan applied more pressure with his hand. On a hunch he jumped onto the luggage in the seated position. The bag kicked into high gear.

Instead of halting the progress of the carry-on, Jonathan was racing across the airport floor, riding the bag like a segway. The handle, which he gripped firmly with both hands, split his legs, which were extended out in front.

He sped past the bathroom where the owner of the bag had disappeared only moments before, and then went blazing past the food court. He tried to bring his heels down to slow his momentum, but his socks merely slid along the floor quickly creating heat. He picked his feet back up.

He blew by a couple shops and then found himself hurtling down a deserted hallway. Jonathan quickly saw that the hallway ended where there was a door that read “Airport Employees Only.”

Traveling at what felt like 40 miles per hour a mere two feet off the ground, Jonathan had only a moment after reading that sign to experience a twinge of dread that despite not being an employee he was going through that door. Unfortunately, that door also looked locked.

Without slowing even a smidge, the bag hurled Jonathan into the door. In anticipation of the collision, he leaned back, which threw his feet up to the level of the push bar. Fantastic crashes resounded down the empty hallway as Jonathan’s sock-adorned feet broke the lock and lead the way into airport employee territory.

Tears were streaming down Jonathan’s cheeks. He was not sure if they were from pain or pure terror. He wanted desperately to let go, but his fingers were curled so tightly around the handle that he did not feel that he could persuade them to let go. Plus there was a part of his brain that quite convincingly painted a picture of him sliding across the floor on the seat of his pants for a long time.

Suddenly the floor ahead seemed to drop away. Before Jonathan had time to process what caused the phenomenon of the disappearing horizon, he was jouncing down a metal staircase. His teeth clattered and he bit harshly into his tongue, which been previously flapping around his open mouth.

The unpleasant experience of riding the stairs was mercifully over quickly. Before Jonathan could be thankful, the bag took its first turn. It did not slow down in the slightest. The result was a subjective increase in speed for Jonathan. The bag rolled up onto the left wheel and careened to the right. Jonathan’s stomach shoved its way up the left wall of his body and tried to give a high five to his left lung. He simultaneously felt like he was drowning and like he had to vomit.

The right wheel thumped back onto the floor and the luggage straightened. To his horror, Jonathan saw that there was another turn ahead. He quickly discovered that underneath the normal airport, where civilians walked everyday, was a maze of corridors lined with pipes where only employees were authorized to go, although they apparently did not take advantage of the privilege because Jonathan did not see another soul.

Jonathan also developed a jealousy of NASCAR drivers. When he first entered the labyrinth of hallways he was forunate enough to take two right turns in a row. The second turn had a much lesser effect on his organs than the first. Doubtless turning in the same direction continuously caused the digestive and respiratory systems of the drivers to be predisposed to being lodged off center and therefore rendered the experience less wrenching and nauseating. Unfortunately, after that initial repetition of turn directions Jonathan was not so lucky. Every turn seemed to be seeking a different destination. Once Jonathan even felt as though he had been turned upside down.

Just as he felt as though his intestines were going to attempt to escape from the confused madness of his insides, the bag squealed to a halt. Jonathan was immediately hit by an enormous wave of dizziness and was sure that he would fall to the floor.

He heard a ding. He struggled to focus his eyes. He could just make out the elevators doors as they slid open. The bag scooted into the car. The initial rise of elevation caused Jonathan’s stomach to seek refuge with his intestines, a different, but not a more desirable effect than had been exacted on him by the maze fiasco.

The elevator came to a halt and Jonathan heard anther ding behind him. Then the worst possible thing happened. The bag immediately jumped to speed, backwards. Jonathan exited the elevator car without the contents of his stomach, which resolutely decided they were better off on the floor of the elevator than inside him. Jonathan was momentarily disgusted to find he was jealous of a pile of vomit; his jealously soon expanded to include everyone around him who had the distinct privilege to not be riding a rolling carry-on.

Wide-eyed stares followed Jonathan as he blazed across the smooth floor. Several children burst into happy laughter as they caught sight of him. Jonathan had given up being surprised by the devious new ways the luggage created to torture him when he was startled by the bag’s sudden stop. Jonathan, however, maintained his momentum.

By some miracle the bag had found its way back to Jonathan’s seat. His rear end collided into its previous position when Jonathan had been slouching. His feet found themselves atop the carry-on once again. Anyone who hadn’t seen his fantastic ride to his seat did not give Jonathan a second glance so normal was his appearance.

“Zaftig,” someone said. Dazed, Jonathan turned his head to see the sharply dressed man sitting next to him holding his crossword puzzle. Jonathan’s voice had apparently been left behind during the ride, no doubt keeping his stomach contents company in the elevator. His mouth, however, jawed open and shut.

“It seems there was an extremely literate vandal in the particular stall that I attended. Zaftig was written on door.” Jonathan stopped moving his useless mouth and just left it hanging as he stared at the man. “A mighty fine clue, I say.”

The loudspeaker rang out in a female tone. It must have been a departure announcement because the man then said, “That’s my flight. Thank you for watching my bag. Have a good day.”

Jonathan was stunned. He watched the man walk away as if the strangest thing he had witnessed that day was the result of someone with a large vocabulary and a permanent ink marker. The sounds coming out of the overhead speak became words and Jonathan listened.

“This is a common sense safety announcement. We would like to ask you to please keep your luggage under control…”