John thought over and over again about how fucked up this was, making a hasty decision to steal someone else's luggage. He was probably on camera, for god's sake! Still, he was committed now. What would he do, go to the security desk and admit he stole luggage but changed his mind? Surely that would just get him in more trouble than if he didn't get caught. And he was soaked to the bone, anyway. He needed new clothes, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
John double-checked to made sure the door to the single unit washroom was locked and started stripping out of his soaking set clothing, trying to get as much water out of them as possible by wringing them over the sink. It was a futile effort, they were still very damp and the mud stains were only worked into the clothing, now. Standing stark naked, his clothes in a pile in the corner of the washroom, he started to fish through the suitcase, looking for clothing.
John was surprised as he fished through toiletries and personal belongings and found a black jockstrap. He looked it over in his hands, it was about the minimum amount of fabric required to classify it as a pair of undergarments, and a bit too wide for his waist. Still, John reasoned that beggars can't be choosers, and slid the dry fabric up his legs, having it sit loosely around his waist. The pouch of the strap accentuated his package, which looked nice, but it was hardly John's main concern.
He searched through the luggage, grabbing whatever else looked like a full set of clothing and ended up pulling out a pair of gym shorts, a stringer, and a pair of socks. It looked like a complete outfit, even if it was something he’d never wear normally. He pulled the gym shorts up his legs and pulled the drawstring tight so they’d fit around his waist and no one would be able to see the jockstrap he was wearing. He then pulled his legs up one at a time and put the gym socks over his mostly dry now feet. He felt that the material was comfortable on the inside as he slid them over.
John then bent down and grabbed the stringer off the suitcase, throwing it over his head. It draped over his slim, hairless body very loosely, but at least it was a shirt. A shirt that was dry, at that. He worried that it would make him easy to recognize from whoever owned this thing, but figured he’d be bolting out of here at the first opportunity anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Like he reasoned earlier, he was committed now.
John looked over at the mirror on the bathroom sink and saw that there was some kind of text or something on the stringer. He squinted as he looked at it, but quickly figured out it was in a different script than the latin one he was used to. It appeared to be Arabic. John was confused that some “Robert Jones” would own something that seemed out of place, but maybe it was just a souvenir from his trip or something. He didn’t know where this man had come from, and frankly, it didn’t matter.
The only thing that did matter was getting proper footwear, as John’s were soaked and covered in mud. He opened the suitcase all the way to get a better look at its contents rather than fishing through with his hands. He found a pair of shoes and quickly pulled them out, noticing their odd make. He looked at the logo on them, Otomix. Some kind of weightlifting shoe? In any case, John had no room to complain as he put the shoes on his feet, noticing that they conveniently fit his size 10.
He eyed his clothing in the corner of the room, completely drenched and mud-covered. There was no way he could put those in the suitcase and ruin everything else in them. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone out of his old pants pocket and after making sure they were sufficiently dry, put them in the pockets of his new shorts. He them unceremoniously placed them in the trash of the washroom.
John zipped up the suitcase which he stole the clothing from and pulled the handle out, ready to make his exit from the airport. He didn’t notice as the name on the luggage tag changed from Robert Jones to his own name, John Abbett. He opened the bathroom door and quickly made his way to the exit of the place to hail a cab. Destination: anywhere but this damn airport.