Dearest Rachel –
You’ve heard me mention several times already how this is my first road trip in a year. In that time, I’ve taken two overseas trips, which tend to be for longer periods, and require me (and Daniel) to use a large suitcase, and pack a lot more (although, since he will sometimes wear the same clothes for multiple days in a row, he doesn’t always pack as much as I think he ought to).
In short, I’m not accustomed to travelling light.
To be fair, even my largest suitcase is just enough to carry two weeks’ worth of changes of clothing; we managed to make it through Japan without having to avail ourselves of the ship’s laundry service – in fact, I’m pretty sure I never figured out where their self-service laundry room was (I was informed that the Quest had one, but as we never quite got to the point of needing it, I never bothered to put in the effort of looking for it. As a result, I still don’t know where – or if – it was, not that it matters at this point). So, while our luggage was pretty heavy for these trips, they still basically contained the bare necessities (and will I ever be able to utter that phrase without that song from The Jungle Book coming to mind?)
The irony of a road trip is that, while it’s almost certain to be shorter than our globetrotting jaunts, you have the option to take enough stuff to fill an entire vehicle. You’re restricted to two bags (assuming you’re flying internationally, which I won’t be doing next year – I’ll probably just have to cough up the extra scratch to be allowed to bring the second one along. At least the return flight will permit it), each maxing out at fifty pounds, and woe to you if you go over that limit. Meanwhile, if you’re driving somewhere, your whole car turns into a suitcase, should you so choose. Granted, packing and repacking at every stop becomes that much more of a chore, but if that’s what you want to do with your vacation, hey, it’s a free country (well… you have to pay wherever you go for this and that, but you know what I mean…); you can do as you please.
It’s how things worked when we went to the island; we would bring everything we thought we would want or need for a stay there – especially since the opportunities to obtain whatever we might have left behind would be just this side of nil. Some of the trips, we packed so much that it was pointless for me to refer to my rearview mirror, as the car was packed such that its view of the back window (and whatever might be going on behind us) was completely obscured. I don’t know if that was legal – after all, the side mirrors, referenced properly, would still catch pretty much everything I needed to concern myself with – but it’s not as if we ever got pinched for it, so… if you’re not caught, it’s not wrong, I suppose.
Even these conventions would see you packing the car to what some might consider an inordinate amount. Sure, my rear view was never obstructed for these trips, but we had one lest passenger (and his attendant materials) and no need for a boat or fishing paraphernalia. But there would be boxes of food – mostly Japanese snacks, because… anime – and cases of soda for the room parties you hoped to host (as well as to tide us over between panels, rather than bothering with hiking to nearby restaurants – there was never a thought of driving off and losing our parking spot at the hotel).
We didn’t travel light, is what I’m saying.
But as I had no plans of having anyone over to my room this weekend (and wouldn’t we both have considered it scandalous if I had?), there was no real need to pack those sorts of ‘necessities’ anymore. This section of the Riverwalk has several nearby restaurants, after all (closer than the convention center, anyway), and even if I had a problem with eating out alone, one meal a day at breakfast wouldn’t be all that bad for me for the next few days. So, everything I packed (Daddy-cat notwithstanding) could have fit in the passenger’s seat of the car, rather than filling up the vehicle entirely.
Still, there are a few preparations you had pre-packed to take with to every convention, which I have, up until now, eschewed. One of these is an old bag with Lain Iwakura stitched on the front flap, which you used to use as a catch-all when we went out wandering about.
Was there anything that you left in it that I needed to be aware of that would make my con life that much easier?
Honestly, I can’t tell. Most of it seems to just be badges and other paraphernalia from previous conventions, just to show that we’d – you’d – been there. It stood us in good stead that one time when we were asked by the ACen staff at closing ceremonies who in the audience had been to the most years the convention had run – your collection proved we had been to literally every single one, which earned us a free admission to the following year’s event. But I can’t say that I see that happening here (and, in fairness, we did miss the 1997 inaugural convention, because we weren’t even aware of it at the time – or of convention culture at all, in fact), or that I’d even want to (it’s not as if the girls are, at this point, likely to change their minds and want to attend a future convention here, I’m afraid, so my guide services will hardly be required).
Still, it might be more comfortable to carry than the string bag I’ve been given as sponsor swag…
And while I’m at it, do I really need all this stuff in the bag as I’m going about the halls of the convention center?
So there it is; I’m going to sling that old bag of yours over my shoulder, and go stepping out as you for the day – or possibly the whole weekend.
In which case, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 