The buzzer and yellow lights flash. A belt jumps into motion. Aluminum plates snake around causing baggage to appear from through the floor. A bang shots through the open space of baggage claim. The line is down again.
Beneath lies a series of belts. A dark underworld series of belts leading to metal doors and the outside. It’s a long way for light to travel. The damp floor creates a musty place. The baggage seldom stays long enough to notice. A couple dozen people hurry to and fro, sight unseen. Minions of the travel world. Their dark world shared by friends only.
The belt has caught one of those friends. A small rat stuck underneath. Meets a grisly end. Two a day ends this way. The crews have a drill. The designated rat puller, the cleaner, and the all clear guy.
“Randy, you’re up. Second belt ascending. It’s a juicy one!” Susan, the all clear gal, “Hurry up TSA is stacking the boys outside”
“Those damn carts. Auto everything, People would know we’re off line. Automated carts, they took place of the BOYS! They can wait their digital asses outside. Where’s George with the body bag?” Reaching up under a three foot wide belt, Randy disappears. A moment later he emerges with a flat brown pelt.
“Damn, you should use a glove! You don’t know where that’s been!”Susan chides him.
“It’s ok. He don’t know where my hands been either!” Randy relies. The rat dangles as he walks it to the hazardous material bag. “George it’s all yours under there. Little guy left a mess!”
Above them, anxious flyers await. Racing on and off to another destination. A couple hundred each with the question of what takes so long. In multiple languages, from below it has a song like feel to it. Life at the International Terminal calls back to normal.
Part of a bigger picture. ..