The Lonesome Bag

TSA agent Annalise Perkins experience an average day at the airport

Airports are places that see a lot of different faces every day. These faces, according to the human tradition, are often accompanied by bodies. These bodies usually belong to people who all have different lives and different personalities and temperaments. So, it is very safe to say that if you work in an airport, your life will never be lacking in a little flair.

            My name is Annalise Perkins and I am the head of the TSA stationed at Lambert International Airport in St. Louis, Missouri. The days I have can definitely be considered interesting. You wouldn’t believe the types of things that people try to bring on airplanes. One person tried to hide a raccoon in their Vera Bradley carryon baggage before. And another time, someone brought a bag completely filled with whips and chains and things that I honestly couldn’t even name. Now, I’m not one to judge people by their eccentric pastimes, but those could be considered weapons, something that we do not allow on planes.

            It’s not just the passengers that need a little help with understanding what can and what can’t happen in an airport. Even my TSA officers are sometimes unaware of how things work. My right hand man Jeremy reported to me that a new hire tried to get a man with a prosthetic leg to remove it for screening the other day.

I had to rush to his station to apologize to the poor man. “No, sir. You do not have to remove your leg. Please keep it on.” I could tell from the man’s dress that he was very clearly a war vet, so that made me feel even worse about Greg’s mistake, so I added, “And thank you very much for your service. You can go ahead and find the terminal you’re looking for. I will happily direct you if you need it.” The man was very nice about the whole situation, which definitely made my life a lot easier.

I pulled Greg away and told him in a stern and quiet voice, “Never, ever ask anyone to remove one of their limbs ever again. Got it?”

Greg looked down at his shoes and said, “Yes, mam.”

“Good,” I said. I am sad to say that that is not the first time that that has happened. And I am also sad to say that I don’t believe it will be the last.

That same day, I had just gotten back to my office to get a gigantic gulp of coffee, when Jeremy rushed in after me.

He looked like he had just ran five miles. His large chest was moving up and down with large breaths and his face was practically dripping with sweat.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He took another heaving breath and said, “Bag… alone…middle of… floor. No… claim.”

I filled in the missing words of what he just told me. “There’s a bag that has been left alone in the middle of the floor and no one is claiming it?  Are you telling me there is a code black going on right now?”

Jeremy nodded his head, unable to say anything else. I ran from my office as fact as my short legs could take me, my large breast bouncing up and down in a painful fashion that all woman with large breasts can recognize. My no slip shoes squeaked on the smooth floors and Jeremy directed me to where the lonesome black bag had been left. It was now blocked off and people clearly had panic filling up inside them.

I rolled back my shoulders and said in my slightly booming voice, “Everybody, you need to stay calm. There is nothing to see here. Please go and wait for your flights.”

I then turned to my team and asked if anyone had seen who left the bag. They all shook their heads no. I then asked if the bomb squad had been called in. Jeremy nodded his head. “Alright,” I said. “Alright. That might have been a bit premature, but we’re going to let them come and check this out.”

A few moments after I said this, I saw a large black van pull up outside the airport. Four men dressed in all black clearly lined with protective gear rushed in with a black case in two of their hands. The one who seemed to be the leader came up to me and asked, “That the bag?” He gesture to the bag that we had blocked off.

“Yes,” I said.

I watched all four men walk over to the bag. One of them slowly knelt down beside it. He reached out his hand and took hold of the zipper. I saw him take a breath before slowly unzipping the bag.

The whole airport was holding their breath. Something spilled out of the bag and I heard a woman scream. It was laundry. What had spilled out of the bag had been someone’s dirty laundry. The breath that everyone was holding was simultaneously released. No bomb. No danger. Just a few stains that I was not interested in knowing what the source of them was. 

That moment right there sums up my typical day at the Lambert International Airport. 

Author's Note

Sorry for any possible grammar/spelling mistakes! I am always open to constructive criticism, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!