2002-12-30 - 8:45 p.m.
FORGET THE SUITCASE
Just a few more days and the not-ready-for-prime-time checked luggage screening goes into effect. Already, we�re hearing packing advice from our government. Don�t overpack your luggage. Don�t pack your shoes under your clothes. Please put your toothbrush in a plastic bag. Don�t stack your books. Don�t lock your luggage. Don�t pack chocolate or (Wisconsin�s nightmare ban) cheese in your luggage and, my all-time favorite, don�t pack anything embarassing.
How do you not pack anything embarassing? I guess travel is out certain times of the month. Even the other times, life is not safely unembarassing. It�s bad enough that I can�t wear my underwire bras through the airport. Now I can�t even pack bras. Romantic getaways (if I ever again get to go on them after the September 11th second honeymoon to London) will be far less romantic. It�s now flannel nightgowns only.
As for the chocolate thing, how can I trust a machine that can�t tell chocolate from explosives? Any red-blooded woman can tell chocolate from explosives even in a locked suitcase fifty yards away. True, a red-blooded, chocolate-loving woman wouldn�t pack chocolate in checked luggage. She�d want it nearer to hand (or mouth) than that. Just to keep it safe, of course.
And what about the shoe thing? What is this obsession with shoes? I�m generally grateful when I remember to pack extra pairs at all, let alone in the proper spot. Shoes rank right up there with toothbrushes, plastic enclosed or not, and socks as my favorite item to forget. Perhaps I should travel only to Tahiti where I could run barefoot and save myself the stress.
On the bright side, I now have a very good excuse not to share a suitcase with Mr. Philately. Mr. Philately loves to share a suitcase. He seems to think it�s romantic to share a suitcase. I�ll share his bed but I draw the line at sharing his suitcase, especially under these conditions. The man never learned that halves are supposed to be equal. My half tends to look more like a third. This situation leads to overpacking the suitcase which is now a no-no. No, I�d best have my own. Pity.
The ubiquitous �they� are recommending cable or zip ties to keep the luggage closed now that locks are banned. I guess I�ll be buying the expensive trash bags before a trip. This change is going to cost me but, given the number of frequent fliers in my neighbor (all of whom seem to have migrated south for the break), the side effect may be a classier neighborhood trash day.
The whole overpacking scenario seems ripe for Lucy and Ethel. You just know that some poor government screener is going to find himself discarding contents just to keep up with the conveyer belt. Hmmm.... First, a belt here, a shampoo there. Later, as life gets more desparate, a sweater here, a jacket there, a few shoes. Much better. The thing will actually close. Put a small rip in the suitcase and the owner will just think it�s airline business as usual.
And then there is the matter of the calling cards. How long will it be until we are getting advertising even in our luggage? The government claims it will notify people of the search of their belongings by sticking a card in the suitcase. Who could sponsor such a search? Samsonite? Or, better yet, some security company promising to protect your home just as well.
One good feature of my current job is that most of my business travel is by car. I can afford to wait and see how all of this shakes out (and where.) But I�m bound to travel sometime. I�m seriously thinking, however, of following my ancestors. Perhaps I�ll just bundle on all my clothes and forget the suitcase.
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Happy anniversary, Mr. Philately! (Yeah, with a few reminders, I remembered. Go, me!)
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
