extra baggage
Back in the olden days, when we were still maximalist packers, we sometimes carried unusual extras in our checked luggage. Yes, checked luggage. Imagine two big rolling suitcases that the four of us shared and we always came far too close to the baggage weight limit.
In these ancient times when we traveled the world overburdened with two lumbering luggage behemoths, we always packed gifts for any friends we would be seeing along the way. We also would ask them if they wanted us to bring them anything special from the U.S. Which is how on a trip to New Zealand in 2012, the extras included, among other things, a pound of cherry Jelly Bellies for one friend.
The year before, however, we truly outdid ourselves when packing for a trip to England. Since we would be seeing friends at two different stops of our travels, I emailed them and asked if they wanted us to bring them anything in particular.
Friend J asked if I would please pick up a specific type of over-the-counter medication that was hard to find in the UK and, when found, was quite expensive. In the U.S., however, it was inexpensive. Accordingly, I went to a nearby drugstore and bought a couple of the largest bottles I could find.
I also packed gifts for Friend J and their family, including what is known in our household as “the Racquet of Death.” The ROD was — and still is because we still have one — the most effective insect assassin I have ever used in my 50+ years walking this earth. Imagine a small plastic tennis racquet with metal mesh in the head instead of the usual stretched strings. Elsewhere on the ROD’s handle was a power button. If a person trying to deal with an annoying housefly pushes that button, when the metal mesh makes contact with the fly, it zaps said Musca domestica to eternity.
I had mentioned the ROD on my blog and my friend was intrigued by it, so I got them one too.
[Insect rights activists, please don’t come after me. I am ordinarily a peaceful person who adores many creatures.]
I also contacted Friend H to see if they wanted anything. As it happened, Friend H was in the midst of a massive kitchen renovation and was having some difficulty finding the cabinet knobs and drawer pulls that they wanted. The items in question were readily available in home improvement stores all over the U.S., and at a much lower price, so I offered to bring them with me in my suitcase. My friend ordered everything online and had it shipped to my house.
When the box arrived, it was approximately 9 inches on all sides, so it was wonderfully compact; however, it was densely packed with 14 pounds of metal hardware. FOURTEEN POUNDS, y’all.
The final tally of unusual items going into my suitcase: 1 ROD, a few bottles of OTC meds, a 14-pound box of metal hardware, and assorted treats and gifts for both families we’d be seeing.
I packed my large suitcase for the trip and fit all the extras in with no difficulty. We checked our luggage at Dulles Airport and I promptly forgot all about it until we got to England.
When we landed at Heathrow, we went to baggage claim and waited for our two large suitcases. One suitcase rolled out pretty quickly, but not the one I had packed. We waited and waited and waited and waited.
Finally, long after all the other luggage had come out, mine arrived. There were customs stickers on the outside and the crappy little luggage lock on the main zipper had been cut off. I was asked to open my suitcase there and answer some questions.
Now might be a good time to mention that not only was I a maximalist packer back then, but I was also not an organized packer, so I did not use packing cubes. I opened my suitcase to find a jumble of clothing, the aforementioned extras I had packed, and other miscellaneous items. It was a mess.
The customs agents asked me to explain, well, almost everything. WHY did I have 14 pounds of metal bits and bobs in my suitcase? WHAT was that odd racquet-shaped thing? WHY did I have so much medication?
I explained everything and, surprisingly, the customs agents were satisfied and let me go. Over the next several days, my suitcase got lighter and lighter as I delivered meds, the ROD, the cabinet hardware, and all of the gifts and treats.
So yeah, that qualifies as the most bizarre packing list I have ever had and one that I have never come close to replicating since then.
To wrap this up, I would like to throw this out to everyone reading this. I feel confident that other people have packed equally (if not more so) unusual items in their luggage. So please spill all.
When I went to Cape Town, I packed at least five hardcover public library books and a veritable pharmacy of anti-nausea meds for my daughter who was a student there, and a bottle of hot sauce from the company my husband and friends own, so I could photograph it for social media. When I went to Italy, I packed the NCLEX study guide, which is a huge book like the SAT practice guides, thinking I would study for my nursing board exams while there (I didn’t). Also packed a travel iron, which was never used, and something like 1500 euros cash (on my person, not in the suitcase!) because this was before airbnb and our landlady only accepted cash.
Ah yes, those not so golden olden days! Imagine a very busy Christmas time SFO (San Francisco, CA), the year 1998, a 3.5 year old opinionated and autistic boy with his own backback, his 18 mo. old brother with his own backpack. Both boys in hat, coats, gloves and their harried mother who has spent the past week parenting solo, wrapping gifts, mailing cards and preparing for a big trip, trailing them while pushing a luggage cart piled high with 2 enormous suitcases, a smaller suitcase and a large awkward box containing my brother's 30th birthday present: a hammock. We are traveling to an island off the coast of Vancouver to celebrate Christmas and my brother's birthday. We have winter clothes, we have essential play and comfort items, we have gifts for my parents, my brother and his growing family and for my family of 4, California wine (more expensive and less available in Canada) and God knows what else and my husband is somewhere, head in the clouds, still solving scientific problems. I dare say your baggage sounds much more interesting and perplexing and, well, humorous. I do think I need a ROD.