I was reading Grant Martin’s post, Should airlines charge you by your weight? and immediately thought of The Husband, who has recently become obsessed with the weight of my bag. The tote bag. That little black bag that attaches to the big black rolling bag, the one that gets placed in the overhead bin closest to my jumpseat.
Just last week I was on the floor, packing up the old tote bag, getting ready to commute back to work, as The Husband leaned against the wall of our bedroom watching me struggle with the zipper. With all my might I pressed as hard as I could, squishing down the contents inside, so I could just…get…the thing…zipped. There!
The Husband began to shake his head. I must tell you that I really do not like when he shakes his head like that, because when he starts in with all that head shaking business it means that he’s got something to say and I usually don’t care to hear what he has to say, especially in situations like this. Trust me, I’ve heard it a million times already.
“Unbelievable,” he said, and that’s all he said, yet that pretty much said it all, did it not?
“Go away,” I said, because I was just about to start filling up the suitcase, and that, I have to say, can get ugly. Very ugly.
He handed me a stack of magazines I’d left on the dresser, and smirked. “Don’t forget these.”
“Oh thanks” I said, as I unzipped the tote bag. I moved a few things around and proceeded to get a copy of Us, Writer, Budget Travel and Vanity Fair inside. Then I remembered the books! Yes, books, as in more than one, because I only had ten pages left to go in Margo Candela’s latest novel, More Than This, therefore I needed a backup book, so I grabbed a paperback copy of Lolita, a book I’ve been meaning to read for what, maybe ten years now, and somehow managed to get it all inside. With all my might I pressed as hard as I could and tried…to get..the thing….zipped. There, got it! I don’t know how I did it. But I did.
The Husband continued to shake his head. “What are you doing? Why are you taking all that?”
“I need. it.”
“You need it?”
“Yes, I need it. I’m going to be gone for five days. I need it.”
Okay, we’ve been married for five years now, so you’d think by now the guy would know that a flight attendant never leaves home without her reading material. I mean, hello!
As I rolled my empty suitcase out of the closet, I asked “What?” because he was at again, the head was shaking.
“You know the airline would save a lot of money if they fired you.”
“Go away,” I said, and meant it.
So he’s probably right, the airline would save a TON of money if they started putting restrictions on what we pack, even so, I’m not giving up my reading material. No. Freakin. Way. I don’t care how much money it saves the company, not after all I’ve given up already – pay, meals, pay, vacation, pay, you get the picture. I’m taking it all with me. And maybe a little more. Like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, for instance, just in case, ya know, I get hungry during a six hour flight. And my Ipod, so I can relax in a dumpy airport layover hotel after a long day at work. And a couple packets of oatmeal, so I can eat before the flight in the morning since we usually leave so early we don’t have time to grab anything. And a couple extra packets of nondairy creamer, because…well..there’s never enough creamer in the hotel room, and this girls gotta have her creamer. And antibacterial hand lotion, in case we have a sniffling passenger or two onboard. And cold medicine, in case the antibacterial hand lotion does not work. Oh and Tums, in case there’s left over food on the airplane and I actually decide to eat it. And water, in case, you know, I get thirsty while I’m gone for five days. And….well…do I really need to go on? The bag gets packed. Full. And The Husband continues to shake his head.