Traipsing up to a check-in counter for a flight, especially an international one, always gives me anxiety. Did I overpack? Will my suitcase make weight? What can I take out if I’m over?
I want to say that packing for London/Paris/Barcelona was such a relaxing experience as I prepared for the trip, but that would be a lie. I knew that my mom was going to get me a big piece of luggage for Christmas with the wheels that move every which way (since I would be responsible for lugging it between cities, it just seemed easier) to replace my huge pink one that got ripped during the debacle that was trying to get on a flight to Jamaica back in August–RIP, you were a good suitcase. So, I made a pile of things to pack when I came back to New York with the suitcase, and that was that.
Wearing: J.Crew Colorblocked Coat, J.Crew Scarf, Gap Cable Knit Sweater, J.Crew Belt, Tinley Road Vegan Leather Tutu Skirt (on sale now), J.Crew Boots, Furla Candy Mini Satchel, Portolano Gloves, J.Crew Necklace
‘Cept it wasn’t. Everything took longer than expected. My hair went on forever, same with the mani/pedi, I still needed to go to the bank to make sure my card would work, and I hadn’t eaten, so I felt a hunger headache coming on. I had done some packing the night before, but the toiletries which are the worst part in my opinion, still needed to go in.
I can do this, I thought to myself as I made the first trip down those four flights of stairs–Jesus, let there be an elevator in my future–with my carry-on. After Jamaica, I learned to pack the valuables so that they could be kept close to me. And a sleep shirt and extra undies. Oh, and my scarf, too.
I head back up for the big one and almost fall down the stairs on the way down. I just about had it with this suitcase so by the time I flagged down a cab to bring me to Penn Station to take the LIRR to the AirTran at JFK, I gave the driver mad attitude when he told me the truck was open.
Oh, you want me to lift this heavy suitcase myself? Taking a tone I knew made me my mother’s child. And I’m about to pay you? Sir, good day.
By the time I made why to the check-in counter for my flight to London, leaving in a little under an hour, I was so exhausted I would have just paid the fees. But the woman never said anything, I glance at my bag on the scale and reached in my bag to take a picture to send my ma. Look mom, I made it!
But by the time I’m armed and ready to go, the bag is floating off into oblivion, and the lady is handing me my boarding pass.
Flexin’… I’m just flexin’… That was me after I made it with that heavy *ss but somehow underweight luggage.
You want to know that funny thing? It took me opening up my suitcase in London and realizing that I packed mostly black and faux leather for me to see, I somehow became a New Yorker… dressed in all black like an omennnn.
Well, kind-of. I still need my pops of color as evidenced in my bag and scarf choice.
Photos by Stephanie R. from the Bronx