Susie's Suitcase

“Owww!”

Well, this is no way to start an exciting adventure. Susie threw me on the bed with such force that my wheels were spinning and started to get tangled in the pink rumpled sheets. If my wheels hadn’t already been able to swivel 360 degrees, they would have fallen off. Then how could we quickly trot through a crowded airport if I had a broken wheel?! Susie would replace me in a heartbeat if that happened. Gasp!

And to think of all the trips we’ve been on. Thailand. Indonesia. Russia. South Korea. Australia. Japan. Oh and how could I forget the crystal clear blue waters of Bali?! Mmmm, those drinks with the umbrellas. What fun we had!

It’s always been my job to make these trips easy for her. With the mustard yellow pineapples against a vibrate teal background covering my polycarbonate front and back hard shell, there is no mistaking me at baggage claim. I took deep pride that I stood out among all the boring black monstrosities which clogged the cargo area. Those bright ribbons always fell off causing mass confusion and luggage mixups. Not us. Susie and I were always first off the belt. Always.

Oh! And her packing skills. Oh, my heavens! My girl’s got some packing prowess. On our last trip to Japan, she rolled every article of clothing in tight little burrito-sized bundles that fit snug as a bug in a rug in every square inch of my magenta-colored insides. Every zippered pocket was filled to the brim with toiletries (mini-sized, of course), undies (cotton and the sexy lacy kind she liked to show off for her beau, Bobby), and her special hairbrush that came apart. She never left home without it. It was all a thing of beauty really.

But this. Wherever we were going now.

This was different.

Something was off.

The walls vibrated as drawers were slammed shut. Articles of clothing landed in me every which way. And heavier things joined the messy pile. Things we’ve never taken on trips before. Their size stretched my precious lining to its absolute limits. Her grandmother’s jewels for one. She would always leave these behind for fear they would be stolen overseas. But they are nestled in my top-secret pocket that she recently sewed right into my innards. Talk about an ouchie!

And paper. There was so much paper filling up my pockets and crevices that you’d think I was a printer paper box instead of a glorious well-loved suitcase. Psssh. Can you imagine?! Me?! A mere box of paper?! But she kept adding folders of paper as if her life depended on it.

Now, I couldn’t feel the spectrum of human emotions that Susie could, but I’d heard her talking about one in particular before this all started with that tall drink of a handsome man, Bobby. Oh. What word was it? Ahhh, yes. The word was fear.

Susie shook me a little and pushed everything down deeper to make more room. Oof. That hurt. But I would not let her down. I was showing up for my assignment. Whatever that meant.

Susie’s special brush was held up to her ear.

Wait…a minute. Was that a brush? I always thought it was. She always held it so close to her head. Sometimes she would sing in languages I didn’t understand as she was using it.

“The stat phone is cutting out, Bobby. I don’t like this. It’s never been like this. This order is different.”

She paused rushing to gather what felt like everything she’s ever owned to wait for his response on the other end. Did she say stat phone? Oh goodness! What is that?

Susie nodded to herself.

“Roger that, “ she said and clicked a button to end the call.

Roger that? In all my years as Susie’s suitcase, I’ve never heard her speak like that. Never to Bobby.

What in the world was going on?

More and more folders were flung into me. I could feel the nudge of one picture frame burrowed into my right side. She covered the folders with more clothes.

Finally, she stopped the mad dash to fill me up, and for the first time, I understood that pesky human emotion: fear. Because my biggest one came true in that moment.

She kneeled on my hard top to get me closed enough so she could wrap my zipper all the way around my middle. Oh, the pain! Her knobby knee poked relentlessly into my beautiful shell. Oh! She started bouncing!

Oh.

My.

God.

I was warned about this. Back in the factory. There was a room of old discarded suitcases that were set to be recycled. I passed by on my way to the showcase store. Those warning whispers echoed loudly now.

“Stupid humans will overpack you and sit on you and squeeze you, and, oh god, kneel on you with their fat knees and fat elbows to try to get everything they do not need into you. You’ll never be the same! Counting helps. Just start counting until it’s over.”

One.

Bounce.

Ow!

Two.

Bounce.

Oww!

Three.

Bounce.

Owww!

She finally stood up. I was closed, but I was bursting at the seams. The bouncing stopped. Finally, relief. But wowza.

That. Was. Brutal.

She manhandled me onto the floor from the bed with a jolt that made all of those file folders shift uncomfortably inside of me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

“No. No.” I coached myself.

I had to suck it up. Susie needed me.

We started to move. But at a snail’s pace. I was so heavy. We’ve never moved so slowly before.

“Don’t panic. You know better than to panic. You were trained not to panic.” Susie muttered to herself as she hefted me over the threshold.

I barely registered her lifting me into the trunk of a car until I felt the bah bump, bah bump, bah bump of the bridge we always crossed to get to the airport. That was the only thing that felt familiar. The bah bump was soothing. I knew what that meant.

No sooner had I felt calmed by the bah bumps was I then tossed from the trunk and jostled over the bumpy tarmac.

Straight to the tarmac?! That’s odd.

And then a final heaving throw into the cargo hold of the plane. I scraped in slow motion across the floor gathering dust and grime in my wheels until I stopped with a thud against another suitcase I immediately recognized.

Bobby’s blued-hued bag.

“Hey, Sally.” I heard Bruce say. His voice sounded faint and strained as if he just swallowed a bunch of cotton.

And yes, the cargo hold is a wonderous and magical place where baggage can speak to each other. Think Toy Story but for luggage.

“Hey, Bruce,” I whispered back. “What’s happening? This isn’t like the other trips.”

“Trips?” Bruce questioned. “This is the most dangerous mission Susie and Bobby have ever been sent on.”

“Mission?!?!” I questioned back.

“Are you serious right now?! You didn’t know that Susie and Bobby are spies?!”

Spies?!?

My little Susie?

Oh, my word.