Beyond A Requisite Amount

One day I am going to get on a plane holding nothing apart from a small clutch bag containing passport, ticket, wallet and lipstick, with one paperback book casually stuffed in my pocket. I'll carry my sunnies on my head.

I did once meet a man who travelled like that. We were on a flight from London to Singapore and I noticed him in the boarding lounge, where he was the only person not carrying an inflight bag.

He got on board, put his jacket in the overhead locker and read the book all the way. By the time we made Singapore he'd finished his thriller and he left it on the seat to glide hands - free and footloose through the airport and on to whatever adventures awaited.

I, on the other had, disembarked as I had arrived - Sherpa Peggy, hauling a bulging handbag plus a tote bursting with inflight essentials. By the time I reached my hotel I needed an osteopath.

To be fair to the younger me, it was 30 years ago, when you could never be sure if they would give you anything resembling a toothbrush if you were flying in arse class, so I feel retrospectively justified about the washbag I had in there. But was the large make-up bag also necessary? The change of clothes? The 1.5 litre bottle of water was clearly excessive and I have now learned to scam it from flight attendants, so I no longer make that mistake.

Where I still go wrong, though, is the two newspapers and three glossy magazines. They weigh so much and the lugging is nightmarish, yet I am unable to resist the allure of the newsstand before getting on any kind of transport.

I have tried actively to counter this neurotic tendency by leaving home without the tote, which inevitably becomes full to maximum capacity, but this just led to a grotesque incident where a plastic shopping bag split on public transport and I had to cram bananas, sandwiches and water bottle into my handbag and jacket pockets.

The only crumb of comfort I can take from the understanding that I am a spectacularly unrelaxed traveller, even on relatively short journeys, it that I am clearly not alone in it.

Every transport hub I have ever been to - railways, airports, ferry terminals and bus stations in about 20 different countries - has been a mini medina of stalls and shops catering to transit neurosis, be it via newspaper cones of sunflower seeds, or full-fat mocha lattes and a box of cinnamon rolls.

Clearly something about leaving home - even when we are thrilled at the prospect of our trip - triggers a universal insecurity that compels us to acquire everything we might possibly need until we arrive at our destination.

If only I could convince myself it's just one paperback book.

My kitchen stained glass window I made back in 1983 when blogging hadn't taken over my life.

Luggage Lunacy

As a few of you know I usually travel overseas once a year. Living in Australia so far away from just about everywhere, I feel the call to explore, discover, learn about other places/people in our beautiful world.

BUT before I can leave my destination airport there is a ritual to go through which I would like to share with you all.....a detail of modern life that never fails to amaze and mostly amuse me, it the way normal-looking people behave around airport baggage carousels.

We all get off the plane, traipse along endless dreary corridors and queue through Passport Control without incident, but then the weary but still basically civilised crowd hits the luggage-collection area and is transformed into a crazy, wild-eyed mob! Men in executive suits and women in smart-casual clothes suddenly become raving lunatics.

The first sign of this lemming-like fever is the sprint to be as close as possible to the point where the bags appear from the great hidden beyond that is the airport baggage handling area. I always deliberately stand on the far side to try to avoid the really mad people. Having established a comfy spot where I can see what's coming, but where there is no one with an overly aggressive demeanour too close, I settle in for the wait.

But no matter how unappealing my spot in the hierarchy of prime carousel-watching real estate, after about 15 minutes, when I am feeling a certain claim over my territory, someone will come and stand right in front of me, leaning in over the conveyor belt, so it's suddenly impossible to see anything, let alone grab my bag should it ever appear.

I try to rise above it by attempting to understand the behaviour I see around me. I can appreciate that, at the end of a long journey, everyone just wants to get the hell out of there - and then there is the issue of the taxi queue. But, really, is it going to make that much of a difference to the big picture of your journey if you have to wait two more minutes to grab your bag?

Rational thought doesn't seem to come into it. There is a kind of demented group obsession to see the bag. Then get the bag. Woe betide you if you're in the way when Mrs Grabby has spotted her case coming along. She'd club you to death to get at it!

There seems to be a great fear of not getting the bag off the carousel immediately. What do they think will happen if they can't get to it the first time and it goes back through the rubber curtain? Have they confused the moving luggage carousel with the set-up at a crematorium? Do they think their bag will be taken straight into an incinerator? Surely they have seen the strange purple suitcase that goes round and round in every luggage-collection hall on earth? Wait five flipping minutes and your bag will come round again like a tired slice of mackerael in a conveyor-belt sushi joint.

The philosophical me asks could we please rise up and end this collective luggage lunacy? All together now: ohmmmmmmmmm.....

Post Script
Now I was not going to mention philosophy in this post as Roban (Flygirl) commented I was too philosophical for her at this point in time (I totally agree I go overboard sometimes) and Annemarie (McMGrad89) asked does my brain hurt......yes when I don't get enough sleep........BUT I had to slip it in didn't I!!!!

I took this photo while barging in France in June this year......just look how orderly these cows lined up to have their photos taken....we can learn alot from them.