It's no secret that the joy I once found in traveling has pretty much been obliterated. Traveling for me has now become a disciplined course on efficient packing and requires a good memory and some adequate math skills. I'm constantly reminding myself to pack all my liquids and gels in my checked luggage, and the same pertains to sharp objects such as scissors (for quick trims or for cutting price tags off newly purchased items I may plan on forgetting to claim at customs).
I have to remember to put my liquids in bottles of less than 100 mL in a plastic bag if I'm carrying them with me to make sure they aren't confiscated. Now I just have to remember to take out my little plastic bag from my carry-on when I go through security and put it on the belt so I don't get accused of breaking a law.
Being the germophobe I am, I pack little sockettes in my purse so I can put them on when I have to take off my shoes and stand on some gross, filthy carpet where thousands do the same every day. Yes, yes, I know: take off my jacket, take the battery out of my laptop before placing it on the security belt... I know all that. Is it any wonder those lines take so damn long, with all that's involved? Here's my take on scanners: two words, privacy invasion. Is anything still sacred?
As a girl who has been inhibited most of her life when it comes to undressing, I now have to step inside an x-ray machine for all of security to peruse my naked body at their leisure. Oh, and by the way, thanks for the hefty dose of radiation. It really pleases me that I'm sacrificing my health to cross the security line every time I want to travel.
And of course I remember to toss my half-empty water bottle before entering security. I'm only too happy to pay $3.79 for another one afterward. After I re-dress myself and repack everything I've sent through the scanner, my irradiated self and I can finally set off for my gate.
Returning home from a vacation is always a nerve-racking event for me. Instead of flying home and basking in the memories of the wonderful time I've just had on vacation, I repeatedly go through my receipts from the trip so I can carefully calculate how not to exceed the fixed limit we're allowed to bring back without penalty. I must remember which receipts correspond to the tags I've already cut off so I can take them out of the pile. More math!
Most people don't worry about such things—but I have to. It's practically like my face is on a milk carton: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN SHOPPING? . . .
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Have Bags, Will Travel
NonfiksiD.G. Kaye is back, and as she reflects on some of her more memorable vacations and travel snags, she finds herself constantly struggling to keep one step ahead of the ever-changing guidelines of the airlines-with her overweight luggage in tow. Her s...
