Scenes from Spain (I)

It could have been plucked out from "Les vacances de Mr Hulot" a delightful French movie by Jacques Tati (if you have not seen it, rent it or "Mon oncle". You can't go wrong).

We're waiting for our bags in Madrid airport. I'm traveling with my mother to the country of her ancestors. All the people from our plane are there, in front of the baggage belt, waiting. Luggages start arriving but nobody grab any bags. Some people bend and check and then let go of the black or red bag. The scene is surreal. A large group of people, looking intensely to that belt, scrutinizing every bag that comes around and nothing happening. The belt becomes more and more crowded with luggage of all sizes. One small suitcase falls on the other side, stuck there, inaccessible to anybody without crossing the moving belt.

Then after 10 mn we hear an announcement in Spanish. I can understand most of it but my mother translates it nevertheless. The bags for our flight are to be delivered on belt 5, not belt number 7. We were looking at luggages belonging to people on another plan.
I wonder where they are. Maybe stuck in front of belt number 7, wondering why nobody is claiming any bags.