Caro and I are all set to fly to Mexico on Thursday morning, and she's even graciously agreed to swing past my place in a cab at 6am to spare me the drama of finding one myself at that obscene hour of the day. Lex is flying to San Fransisco a little later that same day, so she's going to hitch a ride with us, and hang out at the airport until her flight, which is cool.
Air travel in the States right now makes me slightly nervous, but not for the reasons you might think. I am not worried about bombs or trigger-happy air marshalls or even Air Mexico running out of peanuts mid-flight. I'm more concerned with how I'm going to pack all that I need into my little suitcase! After all, we have to check all our luggage now, and hand luggage is only allowed to be a purse, passport, and house keys. The real bare essentials.
I am a good suitcase packer, having had a lot of experience with the 'stuff it in and run out the door or miss the tour bus' style of clothes folding. I managed 4 weeks in Italy last October with only a carry-on suitcase. Granted most of my photos feature me wearing pretty much the same tshirt/cargo pants combo (thanks to my sister for spotting that trend), but that never concerned me. I haven't had to fit EVERYTHING into only one suitcase before. I have always had the luxury of a carry-on backpack for all those extra bits and pieces that never seem to fold properly. This time I was wondering how I could rig some sort of spring-loaded clothes packing system into my little champion suitcase to maximise the space allowed. Pity the poor customs officer who asks to inspect my luggage. Visions of shoes and undies and toiletries ricocheting across the terminal. Classic.
But Caro must be stressing to the same degree, because she emailed me yesterday asking whether we could simply sit by the pool for 4 days straight and drink cocktails. Sans hesitation, I agreed. So let's see here. Now all I need is a pair of flip-flops, some sunglasses, a bathing suit, and a sarong. For four days of travel. Sweeeeet.