Tag Suitcase

Packed Man

Michael 5 Comments

Thanksgiving is a week away and that means that many families are preparing for their week away. All those people that come home for the holidays and the homecomings and the reunions are coming from somewhere. And that involves travelling.

I don’t travel. I only have to go about 12 miles to get home and if anyone wants to return to my nest it’s still only a dozen or so mile markers only from a different direction. No cots or sleeping bags will adorn my living room floor next week, I’ll need not make any hotel reservations to visit anyone and at the end of the day everyone can use their own pillows without having to pack them.

A friend of mine doesn’t share the same travel stress-free holiday as I and it brought up the subject of packing. And not just pillows. Although I have never had to pack to enjoy a weekend with loved ones, I have over the years packed billions and billions of times for work, leisure, both, and sometimes in retrospect, neither. And all our talk brought up memories of packing and even unpacking that I have lodged in my memories vault.

Packing for vacations was always a harder than it should be ordeal for me. I wish I could be one of those who spend a summer backpacking across Europe and actually manage to spend an entire season crossing an entire continent while surviving out of one actual backpack. I needed an entire three suiter sized suitcase (plus my allotted two carry-ons) to spend 7 days on Puerto Rico. Just for me. And I’m a guy!

You’d think that would have been easy. Swimsuit. Flip flops. Done. Pack in a day bag. Still have room for a toothbrush and some sunscreen. I had that covered. It actually went more like this.
-Swimsuit and flip flops into the case. A whole week? Just one pair of trunks? In goes another.
-If I want to walk anywhere but along the beach I don’t like flip flops. Sandals, into the case.
-Can’t have dinner in swimwear. Shorts, tropical print shirt. Times 7.
-Gotta go to a nice dinner at least once, maybe twice. Maybe more. Slacks. Nice shirts.
-One even nicer dinner. Add a blazer. Wait, now we need real shoes.
-I’ll want to go to the casino. Bond, James Bond always wears a tuxedo to the casino. I’m not Bond, James Bond. No tux. But something nicer than shorts and a t-shirt. For a few nights. Ok, all of them.
-And something for the work out room. I never use the work out rooms but just in case that means work out clothes and shoes.
-Don’t forget pajamas. Even if you don’t wear them at home you have to have them for travelling in case there’s a fire at night. Don’t forget slippers.
And that is why I have paid overweight baggage fees.

SuitcaseBusiness trips weren’t less painful. The last few years of work I traveled a lot to other hospitals to do operational reviews. These would take me one or two days each and I usually did 2 or 3 hospitals at a time so I was mostly gone for 4 or 5 days. Because these places could be located almost anywhere in the country and there are only 3 airports in the world that have direct flights between them, business travel meant more time in and between airports than at productive work. Somehow I managed to get a week’s worth of shirts and ties, laptop and files, and the requisite book, phone and flight snack crammed into one approved sized carry-on. Heavy, but within the limits of the underseat and overhead compartment areas.

No matter if it was a week-long vacation, a long weekend getaway, or the puddle jumping business treks, each time I’d check in to a hotel I’d empty my modern day steamer trunk and/or little carry-on, iron the wrinkles out of the shirts, then hang everything up and load the folded stuff into the dresser drawers. When I’d go anywhere with anyone else I’d get the questioning looks that said “what the heck are you doing?” and that included the ex who should have already known I was more than a little on the “over organized” side of things. (Does anybody else do this also or do all those hotels put in closets and dressers and provide irons and ironing boards just in case I happen to show up?)

And that’s why I’m looking forward to next week and one of the things I am thankful for. No matter where I end up for the holiday, no suitcases will be involved in the travel.

Lost Luggage

Michael 10 Comments
The past couple of weeks I’ve had an issue finding something that I wanted to write about. This week was quite different. I just have said to myself, “Self, now that’s blogworthy!” at least a half dozen times. And even though I took a couple of those ideas and fleshed them out to full fledged posts, none of them are what you’re about to read. Umm, assuming you’re going to stick it out here with me and keep on reading.
Sunday afternoon I was hanging around, feet up, relaxing for all the world to see, and catching up on the day’s email, which included a few new posts from the myriad and eclectic selected blogs I follow. Among those was the newest post by Nicole Sundays. If you’ve not read her yet you should go over and see what she has to say. Nicole reminds me of the daughter I never had. Now there’s nothing wrong with the daughter I do have. In fact, I am quite fond of that daughter and I would never trade her in. But…sometime I just don’t understand how that creative, confident, successful young woman got that way from my attempts at child rearing. Fortunately she has. And fortunately I’ll be well (hopefully) taken care of in my old age. Older age. But I digress.
In this week’s post, Nicole tells how she “lost” her luggage and the resumes she carried with her saved her from having to replace a replaceable suitcase. There’s a lot more than that, a lot more, and you need to head over there to read the whole thing (https://nicolesundays.wordpress.com/2017/06/25/i-became-a-security-threat-how-was-your-weekend/) but that one little subplot reminded me of a piece of lost then found luggage. Except it wasn’t “lost” in the way she “lost” hers, it wasn’t my suitcase, and it wasn’t a resume that found it. See how similar a tale this is going to be?
To make a long story longer, let me start at the middle. I had returned from a business trip to Las Vegas. Yes, a business trip. Really. Yes. While I was there, although I always made sure to carry them but never sure why, I handed out no copies of my resume. I did however hand out many business cards. That’s how I remembered that it was a business trip. If it was a pleasure trip clearly I would have carried pleasure cards. Anyway, I had returned a day earlier when I received a phone call from the airline I returned on, one of the more than several that is no longer flying the friendly skies. The call was more confusing than it had to be, especially considering that I hadn’t had any sleep since I returned even though it was the following day because the flight I had returned on was a dreaded red eye and although the day I left was indeed the day earlier, the day I landed was the day after that. Had I gotten any sleep since the time I boarded I might not have have this story to tell.
BaggageClaim
My recollection of the exact call and subsequent events is a bit fuzzy now some 15 years later but it was fuzzy to start so I don’t feel all that bad about it. I received a call saying they were holding my suitcase at lost luggage and would I like to pick it up or have them deliver it either to my home or place of work. I might have been still a bit tired but I was certain I had not lost luggage nor filled out a claim for same. I conveyed this information to the caller and had it confirmed that indeed I had not filed a claim but just the same, they had my suitcase. But I didn’t lose a suitcase, all my suitcases (which totaled one for that trip) made the trek all the way home. Actually, all the way to my office since neither if us actually made it all the way home yet.
Here it gets even fuzzier as the gentleman on the phone who sounded like he had made many similar calls during his (hopefully) brief career as a lost luggage specialist, and sped through some details. Either that or I zoned out on his explanations and sped through them on my own. The gist was that the case had not a luggage tag (which I thought was required), and the claim check tag was rendered unreadable by the security personnel who forced the case open, but within was one of my business cards. Here I wondered if I had unknowingly been cast in a new crime scene drama for prime time TV and if so, would I be paid scale even though I didn’t (and still don’t) have an Actors Equity card.
At this point I really just wanted to get off the phone and see if I pushed the two visitor chairs across from my desk together would they be comfortable enough for a quick midmorning nap. I cut to the chase and asked, just hypothetically, since they got this thing opened, what did they find therein besides yours truly’s card. I expected to hear the litany traveler detritus that we all relegate to checked baggage but instead heard, “a pair of shoes size 11, a white necktie, two paperbacks (I don’t recall the titles if they had been mentioned) (I remember the shoe size because it wasn’t mine), and a money clip.” Apparently it was in the clip’s firm grasp that was my card along with the receipt for a restaurant where someone had lunch the previous afternoon, a folded tourist map of the Las Vegas Strip, and an unused return ticket for an airport shuttle service. None of the itemized contents interested me although I could have used a white tie and I told my caller this. Not about the tie though.
“So, for the record, you’re saying that you don’t want to reclaim your property.”
“No, I’m saying it’s not my property,” probably while stifling a yawn and continued, “but if it makes you feel better, I don’t want reclaim whoever’s property you have there.”
“Very well sir, then” the soon to be though he didn’t know it yet unemployed luggage owner tracker downer said, “have a good day.”
A couple days later I was out shopping and picked up a white tie.