You can relate to the anxiety of seeing hundreds of nearly identical suitcases go past on the conveyor belt if you’ve ever spent any time at all at an airport looking through the carousel for your most valuable belongings.
An airport employee is cautioning customers against using personal markers because they come with baggage that you cannot unload. Astute tourists have found that attaching a ribbon on their luggage helps it stand out from the others.
Discover why you should never travel with marzipan or use ribbons by reading on!
Even experienced travelers can become terrified at the mere prospect of misplacing their bags while on a trip.
Travelers are fastening vibrant ribbons on their suitcases to ensure that they stand out from the others, lowering the possibility that their luggage will be snatched by another passenger or that they would constantly watch it slowly spin by on the conveyor belt.
However, a luggage handler at Dublin Airport going by the name of John claims that these well-liked tips are more harmful than helpful.
As a matter of fact, it might fulfill your worst travel fear.
Don’t take the ribbon with you.
John disclosed to RSVP Live that attaching identifying ribbons to your luggage may result in delays, potentially causing your items to miss the trip.
John informed the source that “tying ribbons to one’s suitcase to aid in identification can cause issues with the bag being scanned in the baggage hall.” “Your bag might not make it to the flight if it can’t be scanned automatically and has to be processed manually.”
Your suitcase will have a higher chance of arriving at its destination if it is checked in without identifying marks like ribbons or outdated travel stickers.
John suggests: “Remove outdated stickers from the bag as they may interfere with the scanning process.”
If you take marzipan, the delightfully sweet almond dessert, on vacation, John cautions you that it could cause issues with your luggage and possibly result in a security alert.
“Never put marzipan in your suitcase. The Dublin baggage expert stated, “Your bag will be removed and you will be called from the plane for a bag search because it has the same density as some explosives.”
Last but not least, make sure your luggage is wheels side up to prevent damage before putting it on the little conveyor belt for handlers like John.
No more ordinary luggage
You no longer need to carry standard black, brown, or blue luggage because luggage has changed dramatically over the past few decades.
Travel & Leisure claims that black luggage is quite popular since it is “one of the most – if not, the most – versatile color.”
“For this reason, it’s worth selecting a different hue if you want your luggage to stand out at baggage claim,” the outlet says. Consider a suitcase with a design instead, or one that’s brightly colored, like hot pink.
If you’re not a fan of pink, you may still buy baggage that will stand out from the crowd in a variety of vivid, striking colors.
Consider adding identifying elements that won’t obstruct scanning with fabric paint or stickers if you’re unwilling to part with your current containers.
Travelers everywhere should find some relief from tension by following the advice of the Dublin Airport handler!
What advice would you provide tourists to assist them steer clear of airport mishaps? Please let us know what you think and then forward this story to others so we can hear from them as well!
I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life
When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.
The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.
But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.
My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?
Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.
“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.
She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.
It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.
“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.
She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.
“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”
I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.
“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”
The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.
Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”
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