I love to travel. I just hate getting there. And after this afternoon, I’m considering taking a contract out on Richard Branson.
The One and I leave in several hours to fly to London, our first time on Branson’s vaunted Virgin Atlantic. Now admittedly, packing has always been a problem for us. A big problem. We never seem to get it right. Too many bags. Too few bags. Overweight carry-ons. That sort of thing. When we flew to Barcelona two years ago on Lufthansa, we had to suffer through the humiliation of opening our suitcases and rifling through our clothes at the check-in counter in front of dozens of people so we could meet the airline’s stringent carry-on requirements—while a constipated-looking, SS-type airline representative stood watch over us, toe a-tapping.
This time, we decided, we were going to start early. The One began packing this past Monday, a full five days before our departure. Me, I started last night, which translates in normal people’s time to six weeks in advance. All was going well until we read Branson’s ridiculous requirements for luggage allowance this afternoon, mere hours before our departure.
Please note that a garment bag cannot be used as your hand baggage unless it fits the dimensions of the hand-baggage allowance. If you’d like to bring one but it exceeds 23 x 36 x 56 cm, it will need to be as additional checked-in baggage.
If you want to take your laptop on board, you’ll need to place it in your original hand baggage or check your hand baggage in.
What? A laptop can’t be brought on board in its own case?
A little further down, under the scintillating section titled Additional Items You Can Bring With You, it reads
Your handbag, pocketbook, or purse, as you would normally use it (in other words, not just being used to contain items that would otherwise be regarded as baggage).
This is where The One and I got into the start of a bitchfest. What the hell does this mean? Were they going to look in my man purse and make a subjective decision that the contents of said bag did not fit into what they thought I should be carrying in said bag during regular waking hours as I amble through the mall or pick out roses at Costco? Come on, people! Who the heck cares what I bring in my man purse, so long as it doesn’t contain weapons of mass destruction?
We had up to 50 pounds per checked bag, which seemed reasonable enough. Until we started weighing our bags on our beat-up Weight Watchers scale.
“Sixty-one, fifty-five, forty-two, fifty-eight,” said The One, kneeling on the floor and trying to read the display, which was covered, inconveniently, by the bag. Chances are that Virgin Atlantic, unlike The One and me, would not take the lowest weight as gospel truth.
Confused, exhausted, and irritable, we’d been snapping at each other for the past several hours. (In these days of heavy luggage fines, I think psychologists should consider surviving the packing portion of an extended trip as a sign of a healthy marriage.) We decided to check out Virgin Atlantic’s website for carry-on information. If we could shuffle some clothes into our carry-on, we reasoned, we might actually make it to England. But we were allowed a paltry 13 pounds each. The snacks I carry on board weigh more than that, for cripe’s sake.
So began the dance that ended with me crumpled in a heap at my computer and The One mumbling something about, “…twenty years…never changes….” It went something like this:
“Give me your sweaters and I’ll put them in my carry-on to make yours lighter,” he said.
“But it’ll make yours heavier.”
“Mine is lighter though.”
“How do you know? The scale doesn’t work. It says I’m 256 pounds. I haven’t been that since 2006,” I snapped.
“Okay. Put your sweaters in your man purse, because that’s light.”
“But I don’t walk around every day with sweaters in my bag. They’ll make us unpack in public again.”
“Damn. Right. Put your computer in your carry-on. I’ll pack your camera in my bag. I’ll put my shoes in my carry-on, which leaves room for your sweaters in my checked bag. Done!”
And so the Rubik’s Cube of packing continued, causing me to unpack and repack my carry-on bag and my man purse seven times. By the fifth time, surrounded by the detritus of my life, I began wondering if London, and the subsequent 12-day Celebrity Cruise, were even worth it. And I began wondering if Branson is really as rich as he says he is if he needs to be so stinting about luggage, charging whopping fees if you go so much as an ounce over. (Actually, this would be an effective incentive for any weight-loss program: scare the fat off people lest they have to remortgage their homes if they didn’t slim down.)
Now, with just 45 minutes left before the car picks us up, the bags are packed. The combination I chose is (I think) 38.5 pounds of checked luggage and nine pounds of carry-on; which is just some medication, a London guide, my camera; and a man purse—which is, technically, my computer bag. Because, Mr. Branson & Co., this is what I carry around daily. And, yes, it’s filled with cords and plug adapters, and a mini-camera, and a clean pair of underwear. (Momma Leite would die if I went to the hospital in dirty undies.)
But what has me really reeling is this little ditty from Virgin’s website. After a long list under Here’s What You Can’t Bring Onboard, we read:
…and here’s what you can.
• Cigarettes
• Cigars
• Rolling tobacco
• Cigarette papers
• Cigarette lighters including butane, absorbed-fuel (Zippo-style) and battery-powered lighters can be carried on the person, except on flights to Antigua, Barbados, Grenada, Tobago, Havana, and Delhi. Note that you can carry these items onboard, but you can’t smoke them!
Really, Richard? Really? I can’t stuff my man purse with travel items, but I’m allowed to carry on weapons of self-destruction? This ought to be an interesting flight.
I can’t be alone in this. Tell me, what’s your worst travel story? Share your tale of woe below and I’ll read them when I arrive tomorrow in London. Make me feel better. Please?
When we travelled back from France this summer, my hand luggage was ONE kilo over the allowed weight and they wanted me to take something out. As I was being *that person* on the floor of Charles de Gaulle airport furiously unpacking my carryon and hoping nothing embarrassing fell out as I did (amongst a sea of other complaining Air Canada passengers doing the same), the woman behind the desk asked me if I had a laptop in the carry-on bag because if I did I could remove it and re-weigh the bag and then put it back and carry it on as it was. WHAT??? HOW does THAT make sense? Same weight going on the plane (never mind that what laptop weighs one kilo anymore anyway?). Sadly, my laptop was in my *other* bag so I had to continue to unpack my carry-on on the floor of the airport, hoping that no one was wondering why I had four baking trays in my carry on luggage LOL!
Seriously, the rules and restrictions are completely ridiculous and, as you say, it’s like a Rubik’s cube trying to put everything in the “correct” place. I hope you guys made it through the airport with no hassles and have the best time.
PS: glad to know you can bring all those cigarette lighters on board–what’s with THAT?
PPS: If I had a dollar for every time I have said “I love travel, I just hate getting there,” I would be ever so rich…
Mardi darling, I hear you. Those rules are so Byzantine. On Virgin Atlantic, why do I have to remove my computer from its case and place it in my carry-on, otherwise it’ll have to be checked? Does that mean, as it implies, if I do place my computer in there, it won’t be checked? Even though it will make the bag at least four pounds heavier?
The kick in the rubber parts is, no one, I mean no one, batted an eyelash at our luggage. I was so frustrated, I wanted to grab the microphone and shout, “Do you moron’s know how many times we worked on getting the perfect balance of baggage–and how far back we’ve been set in couple’s therapy–because of your arbitrary rules? And now you’re not going to even noticed? Even bother to weigh one of carry-on?
In the end, we did get though without incident. Well, that’s until I bit the inside of my lip right before going through the scanner, thanks in part to a TA official who was literally telling us to “hustle through, people.” My lip was bleeding so much, and I had blood on my palms because I had no napkins, I looked like I was punched in the mouth. Of course….Mr. TSA didn’t even notice. Go figure.
Oh my goodness – put some thought into packing! We’ve traveled for years (vacations of no less than 30 days) and our luggage isn’t even as big as a full sized backpack. I can put clothing for every occasion (formal to everyday informal) in it plus two weeks worth of underwear and still have space to buy things to take home.
sf, that settles it. If you can do all of that within the confines of a full-size backpack, you’re my new god/goddess. I want to take lessons. (The One used to pack twice as much as he does now. He reasoning: I don’t know how I’ll feel when I’m there, so I’ll need choices. Oh, ad we could take some pointers on our closets. I have shoes that are older than some of my readers.
The first time I did it, I was filled with trepidation but guess what? There are plenty of places to buy clothing if you ever think you need something you didn’t pack. Load up on underwear and pack lots of mix & match items. Shoes are the hardest thing to narrow down for me, because they take up a lot of room in the suitcase and if they aren’t worn, I wasted space that could have held something else.
I tried that in Lisbon when British Airways lost our luggage. Well, to be delicate, nothing fit me. I would have had to lose 50 pounds to get into their largest or large items. Either that, or wear muumuus.
David, glad to see I’m not the only person with a vehement loathing for packing and unpacking. The part where you shuffle through your suitcases at the luggage check to meet the weight requirement? — I’m all too familiar with that. Alas, now, I don’t even really pack any more. I travel anywhere with a carry-on bag with two pair of jeans and a few shirts, and resign to buying everything else I might need at the destination. It’s not the most logical or economical plan, but it’s saved me half a head’s worth of white hairs.
An, far from it. And I like your plan, but I have one question: What if you over buy at your destination? Do you divest yourself of your purchases at the gate? Give them away? I have a friend who ships all of her baggage a head of time. All she travels with is a toothbrush and smile.
Hmm…that is tempting. But how does she do that- where exactly does she send her luggage? Unless she is going to a specific friend’s house or apartment, I don’t see how that works. Will the cruise lines let you send your luggage ahead?
You can send packages, etc. via UPS and have them hold it at the local facility until you can pick them up. I’m not sure about cruise lines. I imagine that you can have bags sent to the port of embarkation and pick them up before you leave. The trick would be sending them home. But perhaps you could go from the ship to a nearby shipper, send them off, then fly home unencumbered.
We made it a rule to pack ONE suitcase and each take a carry-on. Of course, I packed way too many heavy T-shirts and long pants for my recent Hawaiian trip. I had to buy some lighter Ts there. Solution to fitting purchases in the one lonely suitcase. . . smoosh heavy Ts and long pants into a flat rate box and send ‘er home!
Paulette, genius idea!! A flat-rate box–that using your brain (and the USPS) to its fullest. Everyone, take heed.