Leave the carryon where it is. You can’t hold it right, and it isn’t yours anyway. Wait your turn and walk normally. Down the aisle, smile at the stewardess, down the tunnel, into the airport. Keep moving, it isn’t like you have any loved ones waiting to hug you at the gate. Where’s baggage claim? All the signs are in Arabic. That intercom man needs to shut up unless he’s about to tell me where baggage claim is.
Y’know what, forget it.
Keep your head down and don’t look at the cameras. Don’t be obvious. Walk slower. Slower. You’ll need a taxi. Find a way to hail one with your eyes since you need to keep your hands in front. Hope that it’s a nice old man who doesn’t insist on being paid upfront. You can’t reach your back pocket even if you did have a wallet there. Ok, get in, smile, nod, speak slowly, keep a hand on the door.
They’ll think he’s just sleeping, it’s done now, so leave it behind. The only way out is through.
You’ll need somewhere to stay, a job to pay for it, and a plan. But first, get out of these handcuffs.