I like to tell everyone that Michael and I "backpack" when we Travel. I like the wide-eyed looks I get, as if I achieved something great by not requiring a suitcase. This Backpack signifies that I'm someone who is easy-going and low-maintenance. I just throw a few versatile clothing items into a rucksack and off I go, mixing outfits into chic ensembles. Being able to transform one pair of jeans, a tunic, sweater, and blouse into endless combinations. I imagine my friends and coworkers having conversations about me, impressed by my packing abilities.
"Wow, look at Kasey, she's going on a two-week trip to two different countries and three climates with just a backpack!"
"Now that is one smart traveler. How does she do it?"
I don't do it. What I leave out of my conversations is my definition of "backpack". It's more or less a suitcase with shoulder straps. I will shove the entire contents of my house into it and as long as I can hoist it over my shoulder, voila! It's a backpack. The square shape might be a rhombus now, the seams bursting open, and I might not be able to walk with it on my back, but it's still a backpack and I'm still "backpacking".
It took me four hours to whittle down what I originally wanted to bring to the items that I actually brought, which was a feat in and of itself but clearly not good enough because I can barely zip the backpack closed. And the only way is by first expanding the expander section, then sitting on it, then desperately pulling the two sides closed as Michael works the zipper. It's a two-person job and requires some serious Cirque du Soleil acrobatics.
If there's one animal I resemble on my travels, it's a snail. I carry my walk-in closet on my shoulders, slowly inching my way forward, leaving a slimy trail in my wake because I'm slick with sweat after carting this deformed beast on my back. And here comes Michael again, spouting his words of wisdom. "We all make choices, Kasey. This is the choice you made and you have to live with it." Ok Morpheus with your blue pill. I chose the red pill and here I am with my bulging, seam-bursting, wide-load monstrosity that I can barely lift to my shoulders.
When we checked in at LAX, the attendant took one look at my "backpack" and promptly told me I had to check it in. To make things worse, this enormity kept growing throughout our trip, because of course I had to buy two bottles of wine at the boutique winery we visited in the Casablanca valley. And somehow shove these two bottles into my already packed-to-the-brim backpack. I started out with a 25 pounder and ended up checking in a 31 pounder on our way from Chile to Argentina. Ebags would be duly impressed with me as I'm fairly certain they advertise this backpack as "fitting up to 25 pounds." Compared to Michael's slim guy, who clocks in at a measly 18 pounds, my fattie looks even more heinous. And this is the "good" angle - everyone knows a tilted-down view is flattering.
Any ancillary items that couldn't make it into my "backpack" ended up in my "purse." I use quotation marks around the word purse because when a handbag weighs as much as Michael's backpack, I don't think it qualifies as a purse. This "purse" contains my travel toiletries, snacks, tissues, iPhone, iPad, wet wipes, disinfectant spray, rain poncho, travel laundry detergent, makeup, more snacks, hair accessories, jewelry, camera, scarf, books, even more snacks, travel socks, and my entire medicine cabinet.
If you worry about getting sick during your travels, travel with me. I got you covered. I have medication that is sold over-the-counter and behind-the-counter, under-the-counter and next-to-the-counter, inside-the-counter and any other counter variation. If you need antibiotics, have stomach issues or anxiety, I have a prescription pill for that. I have Flonase, Benadryl, DayQuil, NyQuil, Advil, ibuprofen, Aleve, cough drops, anti-vomit pills, Sudafed, Immodium, Pepto Bismol, Alka-Seltzer, Airborne, Dramamine, and Recoverors (clinical electrolyte rehydration) travel powder packs. You know, for those times when you're scaling Mount Everest or have a wicked hangover. I even have an extra month's supply of birth control. I am basically a pharmacy on legs. Doctor Baba Yaga at your service.
