Baggage

Brought to you by my newest toy, a small wheeled suitcase (see photo below/on home page).

Am I really excited enough about a $10.69 rolling carryon bag to blog about it? Yes, I'm afraid I am.

It goes like this. Once upon a time, I joined a T'ai Chi class. In the beginning, way back in the days when I still had a spouse with whom to carpool, he'd pick me up at work and take me back to the house on class nights. He'd even make me a sandwich while I changed clothes. Then I'd grab my purse and drive myself to class.

When I split with the spouse, I moved to a new home much farther away from the T'ai Chi studio, in an area with much worse traffic. It quickly became apparent that if I wanted to get to the studio with time to change clothes before class, I needed to throw my gym bag in the trunk of the Subarushi and go there straight from the office. This I did for several years.

My huge black duffel had room for everything a martial artist could want. The main compartment contained, on a maximum capacity day, two complete changes of clothes, a backup t-shirt, a pair of shoes, a towel, a pair of boxing gloves, and protective headgear. One large end pocket held my glove liners and bag gloves, boob armor (plastic inserts for my sports bra), and an elastic bandage so old it had melted onto itself. The small pocket on that end held my jump rope. The other large end pocket housed my notebook, while a handful of Clif bars rode in the smaller one. The larger front pocket was big enough to conceal my small purse, plus deodorant, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. The small front pocket held a tiny pink pouch for the jewelry I always remove before class, plus sunglasses and car keys.

Wow, you're thinking. That is a major crapload of stuff. Is all of it really necessary?

The answer is yes. And you thought T'ai Chi was a simple art? Hah! I only need the boxing gloves and headgear on Saturdays, and some days I only need a single change of clothes, but everything else is pretty much necessary. I always need to change clothes and shoes, squeeze in a few minutes of aerobic rope jumping, eat, clean up, and make ready to take notes on my instructors' wisdom. Meanwhile, my workday clothes and purse need someplace to reside while I do so. I need a sizeable bag.

Then this spring I got a new job and with it, a new commuting routine. Instead of the Subarushi, I now get from place to place via train and bus. Whatever I want to take with me, I must move with my own power.

I'm sure you see the difficulties inherent in this arrangement. It took just a week of shouldering el bolso grande several blocks, two or three times a day, to convince even this habit-bound creature that a change of plans was in order. I jammed everything but the gloves and headgear into a smaller bag, breaking out the big one only on Saturdays. I also reminded myself to alternate shoulders so as not to stress just the left one.

The new plan met with only limited success. The small bag was still heavy, especially with the addition of my packed lunch and whatever book I was reading on the train (curse you, hardcover, 9500-page Harry Potter!), plus maybe an umbrella and a light jacket for yucky days. I realized that I had been pretty much living out of my car before.

As if that's not bad enough, I'm not ambi-shouldered. I can only carry a bag or purse over my left shoulder, which apparently has a strap-sized groove in it to keep things from slipping off. The right shoulder, lacking the groove (which would explain a lot about my dance style), is useless. Even if I sling a bag diagonally, messenger style, it still comes to rest on my left hip. Result: muscle strain along the left side of my torso.

Did I mention that T'ai Chi is supposed to be a health-enhancing practice?

I'm as macho as they come (see above re: boxing), but this was getting ridiculous. Taking my cue from the yuppies towing rolling briefcases all over downtown, I decided to put my act on wheels. I strolled over to Target one lunch hour and bought a wheeled frame to which I could bungee my big bag, figuring I could pull it around with no stress at all.

That was a great idea except for the part involving the bungee cords, which tended to come bungeed, and the bag, which tended to slouch and spill over the sides, and the frame, which tended to fold up and tip over at inopportune moments. I think the cart would work fine if laden with boxes or other firm items, but a squishy gym bag doesn't force the frame to stay open. I've retired it to the garage for the next time Hannibal Lecter needs a lift.

Meanwhile, my spine was becoming a question mark. So I went back to Target today, bit the bullet, and shelled out $9.99 + tax for a 19-inch wheeled carryon. No frills, just one main compartment, two small zippered pockets on the front, and a handle on top. There's room in there for my pared-down stash, and I even managed to cram the retired duffel into the bottom for the journey home. Since it's smaller than my original bag, I already know it will fit neatly beneath a train, bus, or plane seat (not that I often commute by plane, but you never know).

So far, I like this one. It's true that I managed to get the rollybag stuck in the first revolving door I came to, and that I dragged it blindly into several displays in Barnes & Noble, and that I pulled it too close and knocked one of my sandals off, and that I nearly lost it to traffic on the slight slope of a pedestrian crossing, all on the one-block trip back to work. This is why I started with a cheap one.

But now I can relax in true T'ai Chi style. Once I've had a few months' training on the new system, I may graduate to one of the sleek Eddie Bauer wheeled duffels with multiple pockets and handles and straps in stylish designer colors. I'd buy it in black, of course, and since it would have wheels, I wouldn't need the straps. But I'd have a choice. Choice is where it's at.

Remind how clever I am when it's time to talk about my emotional baggage.

Photos today? YES

Today around the world: August 8 is V.J. Day in the U.S.