The baggage handlers at Stansted Airport
Were doing their jobs so well:
It only took an hour for the luggage
To reach the carousel
Which I found that we were sharing
With at least one other flight,
So I pushed my way into the crowd
And got ready for a fight.
I forced my way to the very front
And stood with arms pinned tight,
Leaning forward, craning to see
If my case was yet in sight.
A trolley was jammed into my leg,
I got an elbow in the face:
There wasn't room to swing a cat
Let alone a heavy case.
I stood my ground and waited but
My luggage never appeared
And in the end I was all alone,
It was what I'd always feared -
Baggage well and truly lost
Between Stansted and Alicante:
Even now somebody might be
Wearing our shirts and panties.
"Hey, Dave!" - a very familiar voice
Broke into my mental Hell;
"They're over here!" my wife called out
Standing by another carousel.
We certainly didn't fly via Amsterdam!
I just couldn't understand
Till I saw an off-duty baggage-handler
Looking pleased things had gone just as planned.
So the proposal for a further three runways
Must surely ring warning bells:
For if passenger volumes increase you can bet
There'll be blood on the carousels!
the above work is copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved