It’s In The Bag

 

LET’S SEE – SOCKS: TWO PER DAY. Nicey-Niceys: One per day barring unforeseen circumstances. Hawaiian shirts: One per day with extras for any formal occasions that might pop up. Pants. That should cover it. Boots and metal-free cheap airport friendly travel shoes are a given.

I travel light. If I do it right my suitcase will weigh about six pounds. My Carry-on might come in at seventy pounds, but the main bag will be like a feather.

Point of Order! Point of Order!

Why do I call my main piece of luggage a “Suitcase?” There will not be any suits in it. There has never been a suit in it and, while I really do own a suit, it is an item that has been worn only once since our wedding. I know where my suit is. Do I get points for that? To be honest, I seriously doubt that I could get into it without looking like a 3-button bratwurst.

The next time I wear a suit will probably be at my own funeral and I won’t be worrying about how it fits. Those undertakers – they have their tricks. So, until then, my suitcase will hold a “suit” only if I’m carrying a deck of cards.

We are getting ready for another trip down to the sunny climes of south Texas. Small town speedtrap, Texas – where they grow cotton and oil – sometimes in the same field. Very efficient.

On this trip, my wife, the lovely and expertly packing, Dawn, and I will be accompanied by our boy, Alex, and my unofficial Sister-in-law Susan.

I say that Susan is unofficial because, well, she is not really my Sister-in-law if you follow traditional familial flowcharts. Susan is the sister of Dawn’s first husband. Dawn got Susan in the divorce. We all have decided that, for our own purposes, Susan is still inside the fence. She calls me her Brother-in-law and I fully accept that.

Aren’t we the most civilized bunch of gypsies you’ve ever met?

When it comes to Alex the legal lines are more traditional. Alex is 33 years old, but I am still his Step-father. Even though that is true I have yet to bounce him on my knee or play “Horsey” on the living room floor. Some things I just have to accept that I have missed by coming onto the scene so late.

The four of us will fly to Texas for a week or so and get in a month’s worth of “Visiting.” We will see everyone worth seeing and eat too much in the process.

Yet another reason to not bother packing that suit.

I can pack my suitcase in about 14 seconds, but my carry-on takes some time and effort.

My carry-on bag will hold my true necessities of life: my computer, a 70 page wide rule notebook, 18 pens, all of the needed electronics cables, my Kindle, and 600 pounds of meds. This last “refill” time the pharmacy gave me a three-month supply of everything. I took that as a sign of confidence from my doctor that he expects me to live that long. While I appreciate the gesture they can get a bit bulky at packing time.

I would rather just take along enough to see me through, but the TSA lemurs at Airport Security get excited when they see pills that are not in the original orange plastic bottles. So, to avoid a scene when I try to explain reality to someone with 22 chromosomes I end up hauling all my meds 1200 miles each way.

Life would be so much simpler if it was more like packing a suitcase that will never holds a suit.

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