The tracks clickety clacked. Maintenance really needed to deal with that squeaking, too. Someone, somewhere was scrimping on the oil. Probably to ensure that a check box was filled correctly on a form that no one was going to read.
Cloud was last in the arrivals hall.
Cloud always was.
The irritating family, the ones with matching sweatshirts, burnt noses and too loud tablets had left the vicinity. And a good thing too. Cloud was non-too happy.
Cloud had been sitting in front of them for the four and a half hour flight.
The air-con was bust and the little ‘angels’ had kicked, spat and bitten for pretty much the entire flight. Plus the delayed take off, due to a ‘technical issue’ had hardly helped.
Cloud had just wanted a break.
But where Cloud goes, misery follows. If could stayed in one place, folks get nasty. And, if cloud heads somewhere else, moves on and tries to hang out with the locals, it is not long till the grumbles start.
Cloud pitches up by the pool, ready to pay in a few rounds of drinks...folk pack up their towels, they down their phones and take their dog-eared books back into the hotel rooms.
If Cloud puts on his ski goggles and heads up a slope, emergency services get on standby and the ski lifts shut down.
Cloud tries to dip a toe in the ocean...play in the surf...well, down come the parasols, up kicks the sand, and the beach beds empty.
Even on the return flight, a seat with extra leg room was available, but Cloud was not allowed to take it, due to fears of turbulence.
In duty free, Cloud had forgotten to bring his Boarding Card, Rain had it in the ‘travel folder’. Cloud had been accused of becoming aggressive, when all Cloud wanted was a jumbo Toblerone and the latest Hugo Boss fragrance.
Security staff had said that Cloud might not be allowed on the flight, if he were not able to control his temper.
Cloud looked around, at the sweaty heads, and the churning guts. He had breathed in the awful mix of booze and garlic.
Cloud just wanted to get home.
Cloud’s gate was announced in a different terminal, and he had barely made it there.
Cloud’s seat was covered in a residue of unknown origin. Cloud’s seat partner was man-spreader. With sweaty knees.
And now, here, in the hall with the flickering lights, Cloud’s case was missing.
Of course it was.
Cloud had argued with a women whose head skin was so tight Cloud feared he ears would ping off, about the dimensions of his ‘carry on’. Cloud was adamant it would fit. Botox features was sure it would not.
In the end, to avoid a 60Euro surcharge, Cloud relented and allowed the special tag to be tied to his case handle. Handing over the case at the bottom of the wobbly staircase, Cloud knew something was amiss.
And true enough, the baggage handler’s casual approach to care and attention had resulted in this...
The tracks clickety-clacked and continued to squeak.
Cloud counted to ten.
