The contents of both bags are laid out and double-checked, each item inspected and thought over to make sure it is not redundant, that it will actually be used. Though the trip is scheduled to last nearly a month, enough clothes are being packed for only one week; an overseas laundry run or two is in my future. The destination is tropical, so mostly shorts and shirts are spread out on the table next to my bed, but I throw in a light sweatshirt to protect me in air-conditioned spaces like my commute to the airport, the airport itself, and fancier hotels (although I prefer to stay local). Such items as flip-flops and boardshorts are fairly cheap and ruin quickly, so I plan to buy them on site. I lay out my clothes a few days before departure, inspecting them occasionally as time goes by, pulling out single-purpose items and replacing them with ones that can perform multiple roles, that can be worn in concert with one another. A light shawl makes the cut, as it can serve to warm my body as well as protect it from the sun. By the morning of my departure, I have whittled down the number of clothes so greatly that there is room enough in both bags for gifts and mementos bought en route. Streamlined, prepared, and raring to go, I make my way toward the bus line that will take me to the airport, adjusting my shawl and light sweatshirt to keep me warm in the blowing snow and being careful not to fall and break a hip on the icy sidewalks. With visions of sun-drenched beaches dancing in front of my eyes, I greet the driver, board his bus, pay my fare, and venture off toward parts as-yet unexplored (by me).
© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥
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