…but your luggage never arrives on the carousel, after an hour of waiting.

Instead…just… heads of cabbage… with notes tacked to them, all blaming you for everything from minor inconveniences, to horrific tragedies.

In your bewildered, jet lagged state, confounded as to the location of your luggage, stupified by the proponderance of agitated vegetables…

You take off your glasses, drop some visine into each eye, blink a few times, and resettle your spectacles.

‘Cabbage Blame … ?’ you whisper aloud, rereading the airport signage.