whose bag is it anyway?
These luggage tags remind me of when my suitcase fell apart in Charles de Gaulle airport on my way home from Paris. Two months of smoky, wine-splotched clothes fell onto the pristine floor; the bag checker loaned me a roll of packing tape and a garbage bag, snickering while I scooped my sorry American stink off the ground. The story’s funny now, but it would have been funnier then with the “open with caution: dirty clothes inside” strapped to the handle.
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