I can think of no place that contains within it two more disparate, antithetical elements than the airport baggage claim carousel.
Candy, money, Crayola Crayons, even those big industrial conveyor belts that move rocks around a quarry. All sorts of amazing things are moved about on conveyor belts. They fascinate children, and they still fascinate me.
Baggage claim = misery, stress, anger, nausea. If you believe that we humans give of auras that can saturate a place with good or bad energy, then baggage claim will be the ancient Indian burial ground of future generations.
Wise old spaceman: “Ah, don’t build your SpaceHouse there! A baggage claim used to sit on that land! Veeeerry bad energy there, there is.”
Some made-up things that could match baggage claim’s combination of diametrically opposed ingredients:
- Using a baseball pitching machine to kill cows at a slaughterhouse.
- A skylight at the DMV.
- Whack-a-mole-style colonoscopy machine.
- Rube Goldberg machine for lowering coffins into the ground.
- Choose-Your-Own-Adventure tax return.