I'm leaving, on a jet plane ... again. Really, I can go years without traveling as much as I am in the last six weeks. I'm leaving the house about 5:30 am all by myself and going to Colorado, where the weather should be a whole lot nicer than it was in that oven they call Florida.
I checked the airlines website, which said that west-bound domestic flights in July will be seeing Chicago as their on-board movie. WOO HOO! It's probably so cut up that there's nothing left, but it's better than not seeing it at all, right?
And I am, of course, packed.
Here's the story of the luggage designed by Satan and sold by his earthly agent:
One of my eternal quests is for the perfect piece of luggage. Since I know I'll never find it, I won't spend a lot of money; I'll be getting another one soon enough. But this spring I thought I would change my approach, since it wasn't working for me (a la Dr. Phil), and I went to an actual luggage store and asked for help. I told the minion there just what I needed it for (I don't like to check my bag when I fly, so it had to fit in the overhead bin), that I wanted to be able to put as much in as possible, given the size, and that it had to roll so I wouldn't have to carry it. He suggested a lovely little Samsonite bag, pockets here there and everywhere, and assured me that it would meet my needs.
Hah! Hah, I say! It was a bogus tissue of lies!
Yes, it had pockets, and even a zipper to expand it by a few inches. However:
It barely fit in the overhead bin, even unexpanded. Once I pounded it in, it took a man's height and strenght to pull it out. Fortunately, people on planes are nice this way.
Forget expanding it, since it just fit in small.
The main compartment -- the one that expands -- only opens across the top, and doesn't open out flat, like a suitcase. This makes it impossible to pack stuff unless you're willing to jam it in.
And the kicker is that the suitcase is about an inch too wide to roll down the narrow aisle of the plane. Did I not explain to the lying luggage salesman that I specifically wanted to do this? So I had to pick it up and carry it to my seat, either walking sideways -- like an E-gyp-ti-an, I love that song -- or raising this thing over the tops of the seats. Since I also had my laptop in a bag slung over a shoulder, I felt like I was walking in Jupiter's gravity.
There. When's the last time you read a rant about luggage?
The day after I got home I went to Target and bought the next in my never-ending suitcase quest, an alleged Eddie Bauer, now on sale. It's stuffed and I'm all packed for tomorrow. We'll see, chickens, we'll see.
By the by, Chum's husband Jim is now all pacemakered, with a model that's an upgrade from the one Dick Cheney's got. Looks like he's doing really, really well.
I have no idea what the Internet access situation will be in Colorado, but I shall read diaries as much as possible and write when I can. I hate feeling out of the loop.
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I'm watching Dr. Phil
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