Baggage Claim Is F*ed Up


I can think of no place that contains within it two more disparate, antithetical elements than the airport baggage claim carousel.

Conveyor Belts/Carousels

yaaaaaay!

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

so...frustrated...losing...will...to...live...

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.
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