[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]This time of year, I often find myself living out of a weekender bag. They have slightly less room than a suitcase and are more apt to cut off blood flow to your forearm while you dash through the gate. They also pose a higher risk of crashing from the overhead bin during the post-flight rush, and if they’re going to fall on anyone, he or she is guaranteed to be the most salty passenger on the plane. I write from experience.
Trust me, that’s never a fun apology to make. Especially when you have a connecting flight to catch.
In past years, it’s been work trips to Houston or New York, bridal showers on the South Shore or Long Island, a drive up to Maine, or a weekend at the Cape. For something new and different, I’m headed to rural Georgia by way of Detroit and an evening Tennessee. Not exactly what I would call a direct route. Life is a lot of things, but fortunately, it’s rarely boring.
After packing a bunch of stuff I didn’t use, eat, or appreciate (namely a bag of extra socks and non-running clothes, a box of graham crackers, and approximately 48 magazines) for our Reach the Beach adventure, I am making a concerted effort change my over-packing ways (while not giving the airlines a single dime over my ticket fare… stickin’ it to the Man since 1982… sort of).
I am determined to not check a bag.
For my plan to be successful, I will need to arrive at my final destination looking lovely and work appropriate, portion out toiletries to meet TSA requirements (allowing me to smell relatively good), maintain possession of various business materials, and have something to wear for the return flight that isn’t yoga pants.
Clark says, “Pants are for fools.”
Once the necessities are packed, I am hoping to have room for running sneaks, reading material, and security checkpoint-friendly food. Knowing myself, and the inevitable panic that will set in three minutes before my cab arrives, I will likely use up every scrap of room in that bag (you never know when you might need to play a game of Taboo… by yourself… in your hotel room), only to exceed the size or weight limits. Thereby needing to check the damn bag.
I’ve made myself two lists this time. The
people you really want at your wedding stuff I need, and the stuff it would be nice to have with me on my whirlwind tour of (a very small part of) the South. An A and B list, if you will. The A list has things like underwear and toothpaste on it. The B list has things like my fiance’s sweatpants, a framed photo of my dog, and my entire nail polish collection on it.
I think it’s going to be a long night.
Also On Tap for Today:
- Love lists? I think I found the ultimate book for people like us.
- Is it too soon to look forward to the long weekend?
- Love this: writers’ favorite snacks
What items are always on your packing ‘A’ list?