Other People’s Bags

Miranda July wrote in a recent New Yorker that she used to steal her friends’ luggage and then get her friends to put in a false claim for the insurance money. Nice. I mean, that’s fairly clever but not as much fun as what I used to do: steal someone else’s bag right off the luggage carousel.

July implies in her piece that she did it for the money—she was flat broke. But I know why she really did it—for the thrill. When I stole those bags—always bags, never suitcases, since you never can tell how heavy they’re going to be—I did it for the surprise of what might be in them. I’d snatch the bag and head directly for the doors where my boyfriend would have a taxi waiting. I’d pop in and we’d drive off. At home, the two of us would open the bag as if it were lost treasure. Sometimes it would just be some guy’s clothes smelly and rumpled up in a wad. But often I’d get a woman’s bag—I tried to pick bags that seemed feminine—and my boyfriend would get off when I would wear the anonymous woman’s underwear or bra. One time we found a dildo, and had one great night of fucking with it.

I say “one” great night because we mailed it back the next day. We did this with everything—mailed it all back, including the bag, via the post office and using a bogus return address. My boyfriend was paranoid about keeping any of stuff, and I thought it was better to have the memory of the small treasures than the treasures themselves. Only once did I keep something. It was from our last heist, which ended in a fight about whether or not we should get a dog—the bag had dog collars and dog toys inside. After the fight, we made up with some quick sex (no dog collars, please). The next day I took the bag all boxed up and ready to go to the post office. For some reason, I reopened the box, laid everything out on the car seat, and began to cry. I was getting my period, which helped me justify somehow taking one of the dog toys—a beat-up Barbie head—and putting it in my purse.

My boyfriend and I broke up a few weeks later—a mutual decision, I guess—and I threw the Barbie head away. It’s been years now since I robbed a poor traveler…though often I do look longingly at other people’s bags on the carousel, picturing what treasures might be within.

 

Catherine Miller lives in Green Bay. She enjoys reading, writing, watching ice hockey, and playing with her dog.