Nightwatch: A right carry-on
I've got a lot of baggage (pause here as regular Nightwatch readers, ex-boyfriends and psychotherapists across the land let out a fully justified 'Well duh!'). Don't worry, though; time, space and basic human decency dictate that I can't get into all of that on this occasion.
Rather, I'm referring to actual baggage of the carry-onto-a-plane kind, though this topic is likely to be even more traumatic for the average reader than a tour of my psyche, because who among us hasn't been left scarred by our battles with the bulging carry-on?
Last week, being such a hip* go-getter and all, I had occasion to be travelling to two different cities over the course of six days. Seeing as I was taking various flights with a certain Low Fare/No Fair airline, and the fact that checking-in baggage now incurs the kind of fines, hassle, and criticism normally reserved for people who defecate on the Luas, I was determined to make both trips with just my trusty carry-on case to hold all my essentials.
Even after all these years of weekend breaks, I still haven't mastered the art of packing a carry-on bag. I have one well-travelled lady friend who can stuff everything she needs for a four-to-five-day break into one decent-sized backpack. Honestly, this girl is the Mary Poppins of carry-ons: she'll unzip that bag and out will come a pair of boots, an array of hats, a choice of outfits, several containers of cosmetics, the complete set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, a bicycle... (I jest, of course. She doesn't wear hats).
I, on the other hand, am slightly less adept at being compact. The problem is that I'm one of those 'but what if'/cover-every-eventuality packers. I might decide to just bring the one pair of shoes, but what if they get wet or I end up drunkenly trying to deep-fry them at 4am? Pack the one pair of jeans? But what if they get dirty and/or lost somehow? Best throw in a spare everything.
I'll methodically break down the weekend in my head as I pack: daytime and night-time shirt/top, day and night socks and jocks, the bare minimum of (ahem, exceedingly) manly toiletries. But what if?... and so on and so forth. Then the re-pack begins, and I'll decide to strip back by removing a pair of socks from the bag, and replace them with an extra coat. At this point, the system breaks down entirely.
It doesn't help matters that the airlines have become even more baggage-unfriendly than ever before. The No Fair airline, for instance, now only seems to permit a carry-on case the size of a box of Corn Flakes; otherwise, you'll be charged to check it in just before you board. Seriously, the Olympics should invent a new competitive category: the 'Try To Squeeze Your Bag Into That Effin' Tiny Measuring Rack Thingy At The Boarding Gate'-athon.
Last week, I made it a personal mission to do six days travel with just the carry-on. A friend imparted the revolutionary -- and apparently common -- packing tip of rolling your clothes to optimise space in the bag. So I invested in a new bag of appropriate carry-on tininess, and I rolled. My God, how I rolled. I rolled like Rick Astley. What's more, I vowed to scald myself with the iron every time I even thought about packing extra 'what if?' clothes. And then I rolled some more with increasingly burned hands.
Somehow, miraculously, wondrously, I ended up with a bag that was even more over-packed than ever before, so after the fifth hour of re-re-re-packing, I buried my face in my patented Scream Muffling Pillow, logged onto the airline website, and booked check-in baggage for all the flights. Don't judge me!
As it turns out, I ended up using about 35pc of what I packed. I would have easily managed with my original carry-on. So the lesson is that being a neurotic, overly cautious worry-wart, in travel as in life, is a giant waste of time, energy and money. But hey, I guess that's just my baggage.
*And with the use of that word, I have officially turned into my mother. That happened a lot faster than expected.
- Declan Cashin
Irish Independent
