Trash Talk: This baggage is emotional

Have you ever wondered what happens to all that luggage that is never picked up from the baggage claim? I haven’t. I don’t even know anybody who checks luggage anymore, because of those ridiculous baggage fees. But apparently it’s a pressing matter, and Spike TV is hoping to capitalize on this obvious gap in the reality programming schedule with its newest series, Luggage Wars.

Currently in production, Spike’s new series has all the elements of a quirky, cable auction show, but instead of rifling through abandoned storage containers for valuable antiques, the cast of Luggage Wars will seek a profit by bidding on unclaimed baggage that travelers leave behind at airports. Using night vision goggles, metal detectors, and even handheld ultrasounds, these baggage bidders are looking for more than toothpaste and pantyhose—the producers promise ancient artifacts, dazzling jewelry, and stacks of cash in the inaugural season. Assuming that there’s enough abandoned luggage to prolong the series, it will fit neatly into a burgeoning genre of auction television that includes A&E’s Storage Wars and Storage Wars: Texas, Discovery’s Auction Kings, History’s Pawn Stars, and Spike’s highest-rated unscripted series Auction Hunters.

Antiques Roadshow this new genre is not. Take the original—and most popular—auction show, Storage Wars, as an example. The show has an energizing cast. Dave Hester brings competitive antagonism and guile. Jarrod Schultz and girlfriend Brandi Passante combine bickering with cutesiness. Darrell Sheets serves up redneck charm and blunt honesty. And Barry Weiss couples seasoned antiquing experience with a childlike exuberance. Together, the four groups battle it out each week to try to squeeze out a profit from buying Los Angeles-area storage lockers and selling their contents. The rivalries are entertaining. The speed-talking is baffling. But ultimately, the show is all about the finds.

A set of vintage vending machines, a collection of newspapers dating back to the day Elvis died, a piggy bank in the shape of a gorilla—the quirkier, the better. Storage Wars has certainly produced some interesting finds, but not all of them are particularly valuable. It’s not every day that a storage locker contains a mint-condition copy of Action Comics Number 1 (priced at over two million dollars, it is currently the most expensive item ever discovered in an abandoned storage). In fact, the vast majority of the items found on Storage Wars aren’t much more exciting than a mattress. But even if Barry finds a fake Rolex or Jarred and Brandi get stuck with a futon, we’re still hooked. It is clear, then, that the discovery of high-valued goods alone is not what fuels the show’s impressive ratings.

Whether you’re sitting around the TV in a retirement home or pounding some Natty pre-Rhino, there’s something about finding a pistol, whether it’s either Civil War-era or squirt, that sparks the curiosity of a broad audience. In that light, the appeal of the auction genre to American audiences boils down to originality and promise.

The auction-genre reality programming offers the unexpected. In the modern market, we’re bombarded with products that all promise to be new and exciting, but often the roaring cacophony of consumerism drowns out any individuality or uniqueness. Modern companies try to fix this by allowing consumers to customize everything from burgers to boogie boards. But in Storage Wars, each locker is a one-of-a-kind surprise.  Much like the wonder of opening a fortune cookie, each locker holds something uniquely special that you can’t find at your local Wal-Mart or on Amazon. Add on even a small chance that your locker holds a Rockwell original or an ancient Egyptian urn, and the show’s appeal starts to make sense.

In an era of budget slashing and penny pinching, the idea that there’s opportunity out there resonates with American audiences. Whether that opportunity is hidden in a suitcase, storage locker, or in a president, Americans still hold on to the idea that hope is out there. And while it may seem like a stretch to say that Storage Wars is restoring America’s sense of hope, it is undeniable that the show gets at something deeper than materialism. In the same way that the California gold rush spawned mass westward migrations on the promise of creating a better life, auction genre television is reigniting the American spirit for adventure and (hopefully) prosperity—albeit from underneath that pile of socks you stuffed in your lost luggage.