Baby Spice has a tantrum – don’t bring your bags

I wondered how I could get Baby Spice into the blog, and finally the moment came this morning.

Arriving
early to hear Mr. Negroponte I bring my suitcase with me, because I'm
flying out of here tonight (and missing the party, oh no!) and the
hotel wouldn't let me leave it there.

Going through security
they x-rayed the bag, gave me a quick body scan, made me repeat the
oath of allegiance to the flag of America and do 20 push-ups, before
letting the suitcase, and me, into the hallowed halls of the BCEC.

Now
I've obviously lost my marbles, as I had assumed there would be
somewhere to leave it. I thought it was next to the registration desk,
but there's nothing there. So I go and ask.

"Excuse me, but can I check my suitcase anywhere around here?"

"Urrmmm, no.  We don't have any cloakrooms here," states the lady at the Information desk.

"Why?" I ask.

"Oh, it was a conscious decision to avoid terrorist bombings", came the reply.

"But you've x-rayed it and scanned me, there must be somewhere to leave it?"  I plead.

"No sir", came the flat reply.

So I had a tantrum, cried like a baby (or a Baby Spice), and jumped up and down and screamed.

"Please take my suitcase, please, please, please."

The silent response was deafening.

Be
warned folks, when you leave here tomorrow, don't bring your bags with
you. And if you see a guy walking around followed by a large, 25kg,
heavy suitcase on a lead, don't ask him what he's doing lugging his bag
around.

Snivel, sniff, and bwah, bwah, bwah.