(Or: The Day Four Golfers Almost Fought a Martial Arts Legend in a Baggage Room)
It was a typical night at Transborder Throw-In — where lost bags go to die and agents go to question their life choices. I was schlepping in some odd-sized luggage when I spotted them…
Four golf bros. Slightly buzzed. Slightly lost. Totally annoying.
They cornered me like a flock of angry flamingos.
“Hey man, two of us got our golf clubs… but where are OURS?!”
Now, I could’ve told them the truth.
That the clubs were still en route.
That baggage handling is chaos.
That the tags were probably printed using invisible ink.
But no.
Instead, I decided to entertain myself — because that’s what we do in baggage when sanity runs low.
“Ah yes, those must be NICE clubs. See, every couple of weeks, we borrow the good ones — test ’em out for a few rounds. You know… Quality control. Then we ship ’em to your house. Unless we don’t. Then you gotta talk to HIM.”
I pointed to the quiet, stone-faced man behind the counter:
Mr. Han Han.
Also known as “The Silent Suitcase Slayer.”
The man. The myth. The Green Beret sensei of the Korean combat arts (at least according to ramp folklore).
And then… one of the golfers slurs out:
“I better get my clubs or I’m gonna KICK HIS ASS.”
I paused.
Smiled.
And unleashed pure baggage-handler sass.
“OH — Please, PLEASE let me know when you’re gonna do that. I’ll call the entire crew in to watch. Popcorn’s on me.”
“Why?” he asked, confused but cocky.
“Because, buddy, there’s only ONE person in this dump I call Mister — and that’s him. That man taught the Green Berets how to fight. If you jump that counter, he’ll have all four of you spread out on the floor like lost luggage in under 30 seconds.”
Silence.
Blink.
Sweat.
Regret.
At that exact moment — like a divine punchline — the ramp crew rolled up with more bags.
“Oh hey! I think your clubs are here. I’ll go bring ‘em in,” I said, turning away…
Grinning like a raccoon who just tricked a bulldog.
