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The remains of packaging from looted goods on train tracks in Los Angeles, USA
Photo: PATRICK T. FALLON / AFP
When people post their vacation photos online, or when some medium presents the best travel destinations for 2022, I rarely feel the need to go there now. But the other day there was this message, did you see it? »New trend in the USA: thieves plunder Amazon freight trains« – Criminals steal packages from freight containers, rip them open and take the contents with them. Discarded boxes remain, some empty, some with stuff that they probably didn't think was valuable enough. The pictures look like after a natural disaster, everything is covered with packaging material as far as the eye can see.
How I would love to stroll around there! But then I think to myself, oh come on, my readers sometimes write to me anyway that I'm a kind of female Relotius, because I only make up my lyrics, and of course they're partly right, because of course I make up my own opinions , you pranksters! I click through the loot photos a little more... and eventually fall asleep.
A loud curse wakes me up. "Fuck!" a woman yells, and I look around. I'm standing between torn boxes on a train track. The sun is shining, a light wind is blowing, a few plastic bags are flying past, dancing. Only a few meters away from me, three figures are bending over a crate. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's the 51st air fryer this week!«, the woman scolds, »and it's only Tuesday!« When I take a few steps in her direction, all three of them turn to me. Two of them are dressed all in black, a third wears a gray teddy fur jumpsuit with bunny ears on the hood.
"Hey guys," I greet shyly, "can I perhaps do an internship with you?" They look at each other silently, then the rabbit reaches into the front pocket of his overalls and tosses me a cutter knife.
"I'm Peter," says the rabbit, "and this is Paris and Hilton.
You are welcome to participate, we have a lot to do today.
But no photos!«
Air fryers, waffle irons and thermomixes
Paris lifts the air fryer out of the box and carries it to one of three pickups parked side by side. i follow her "Do you have any experience?" she asks me. “Experience?” I ask, “with online shopping packages or with theft? Yes, both, actually.” She puts the fryer on the back of the truck. "Cool," she says. “Well, just unpack. Hot air fryers, waffle irons and thermomixes go here, acupressure mats, Korean cosmetics, rowing machines and all the other wellness stuff come on the second pickup, and smartphones, tablets and Playstations come on the third. And noise-cancelling headphones.« I nod and try to look inconspicuously to see if I might see a new iPhone for me on the back of the third car... »But don't steal anything!« Paris exclaims. »Internship is unpaid!«
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New trend in the USA: Thieves plunder Amazon freight trains
"All right," I murmur.
I go to a mountain of packages and pull out a particularly large one.
The label says "Dirk Rossmann" as the recipient.
Wait, I think Dirk Rossmann?
Curious, I cut the tape and see: the same book twenty or thirty times over.
»The Wrath of the Octopus« by Dirk Rossmann.
»Huh?
Here's a package full of Dirk Rossmann books addressed to Dirk Rossmann?” Peter comes over to me, laughing.
"Hahaha, yes, we have that here every day," he explains.
“Bestseller!” he laughs.
"You can keep it."
"Why are you wearing a bunny suit?" I ask him in my nonchalantly investigative way. "Cute, isn't it?" says Peter happily.
'I found it.
My three Pikachu jumpsuits are in the wash.” As he speaks, he cuts open another package.
"Great!" he exclaims and in the next moment he's putting together a hula hoop.
"Man, Peter!" Hilton snaps, walking in our direction with three packages labeled "Heated Neck Massager Belt."
He puts her on the middle pickup.
Peter has meanwhile assembled the hula hoop and is circling his hips.
"Boy, you can't do it every time here," begins Hilton, but a yell from Paris interrupts us: "The cops!"
Attack with massage guns and weighted blankets
Peter drops the tire, Hilton pulls me behind the pickups and hands me something. "Here," he says, "just pretend!" The four of us crouch behind the cars, rapid footsteps can be heard and "Stop! Stop!" Police!' shouts. I look into my hand. "A... massage gun?" I whisper to Hilton. He winks at me, then pulls a rainbow-patterned FFP2 mask over his nose and mouth. Behind us, Paris hisses: "Guys, wellness attack!" and to me: "You stay here!" All of a sudden, the three jump out from behind the truck and threaten the three police officers who are approaching them with massage pistols. “Not a step further!” Paris yells. "We're armed!" Behind her, Peter pulls something from the truck bed. "In the name of Jeff Bezos!" he shouts. I see Hilton roll her eyes. Peter doesn't let himself be irritated."In the name of Jeff Bezos! Relax!” And with a dexterous gesture, he throws a weighted blanket at the first officer, who immediately falls to the ground. A second on the second, a third on the third, all three are now on the ground.
"Thirty-two pounds of therapy blanket!" Peter exclaims triumphantly, and high fives with Paris and Hilton. I come out from behind the car, confused. That was it? Hilton shrugs and laughs. One of the police officers half gets up, Paris immediately points her massage gun at him, he lies down again. "Aren't you guys comfortable enough?" she asks sternly. "I actually really like it," says the middle policeman quietly under his weighted blanket, "you really feel hugged." I step a little closer to him. He smiles blissfully. "Very nice," he says, "I've been thinking about buying one for a long time." Behind us, Paris shouts: "Have fun with it!" She waves a car key and jumps into one of the pick-ups. “Bye, bye!” Hilton calls from the second car and drives off.Peter in the bunny costume is now sitting in the third car, waving out of the window and calling out: “I was happy! Five out of five stars! Bundesgartenciao!” And off they go.
