This week I prepared to leave for a week-long conference followed by my summer internship. I had organized a nifty little folder to coordinate all of my housing and transportation information. I had a convenient corner of the closet reserved for my business clothes to ensure easy packing. I had even thought of the handheld steamer to make sure said clothes would be wrinkle-free upon arrival. I had planned and replanned to make this the most streamlined packing experience of my life as I traveled from Iowa to Connecticut to DC all in the span of a week.
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Unfortunately, I forgot that I am possibly the worst over-packer known to mankind. This turned my beautifully organized closet space into an episode of some bad reality dating show in which I had to voice the pros and cons of each piece of my wardrobe. Spoiler alert: All of the shoes made the cut; I can’t say the same for all of the practical items like black skirts. Do you really need more than one black skirt anyway, though?
Finally I have my carry-on and checked bag down to the point where I can at least zip them without having to worry about my clothes exploding cartoon-style all over the room the next time I open up the case. I lug the biggest bag downstairs with a growing sense of dread, however. I fly on airplanes all the time to and from school. I have developed a sixth sense for realizing when my bag is just below that 50-lb. mark. This bag was well past that 50-lb. mark. I set it on the scale and throw a small fit when I realize I have to get rid of eight whole pounds. Another spoiler alert: The shoes still aren’t the ones to go.
What to get rid of now though? I have a black suit packed, do I really need a gray one? That’s probably five pounds. Yes, Katelyn. You actually do have to keep the gray suit. Do I really need these snakeskin pumps? Well, that’s a no-brainer. Of course you do. You might be able to wear them one time. Do I need this black dress that you could probably wear with just about anything? Nah. Let’s leave that one behind. Then I came to the beautiful realization that I could just check another bag. I had an upgrade waiting on my airline membership card. Beautiful. I could pack a small backpack with bulky items. No worries.
I get to the airport. Everything seems to be going my way. I get through TSA for the first time in a long time without them having to dig through all of my things. I don’t have to wait a long time in the terminal. I have a smooth ride to my connecting airport. It’s all lovely. I take a nap on my flight to Connecticut. I do some light reading. I forget about the baggage crisis that has been plaguing me all week. I waltz down to baggage claim to pick up my backpack and large roller bag. The backpack is one of the first things out. And then I wait and wait and wait. And then the carousel turns off. My jaw about hits the floor as I realize the huge roller bag with all of the shoes isn’t coming anytime soon.
I rush into the baggage claim office unsure whether I should be crying in deep, dark despair or laughing at the irony of losing all of the shoes that I refused to leave behind. I put my baggage ticket up on the desk and hope beyond all hope that I just somehow missed the bag coming out. I was quickly informed that I did not in fact miss the bag. It was sitting in Minneapolis and hadn’t been loaded. Then I was asked if I knew why it hadn’t been loaded. That’s when I realized that in some former life I had to have scorned a baggage carrier because I could think of no conceivable way that I would know why they had chosen not to load one of my two checked bags. I just stood there with my mouth gaping for a few moments trying to think of any reason the passenger would know why the airline only loaded one of two checked bags. When I couldn’t think of something, I plastered on the best fake smile I could manage and replied that I had no idea as I was not the one loading the luggage.
Long story short, it was approaching midnight and my patience was about gone. I left the airport with the promise that my luggage would be expedited and delivered within two days. Next week’s post will be a lament on the loss of my shoes if this turns out to be false. Either way, next time I should consider the merits of packing less. Or I could always just drive.
