Tomorrow I’m off to West Virgina for Thanksgiving with the family. I hate flying around the holidays. Why? Because that’s when the amateurs fly. With their kids. And their baggage. Ack.
I’m packing to travel with carry-on baggage only. Let me just say for the record that the TSA’s rules for carry-on liquids make No Damn Sense. The 3oz container size restriction I can live with. Having to ferret out all of my itty bitty containers of liquids, gels, pastes, and other substances that might arbitrarily be lumped into that category, and then get them all into a single one-quart zip-top baggie, and get it to actually close — is a pain in the royal patootie.
I’m one of those people who organizes by task, so all my makeup is grouped together, all my shower items are grouped together, all my hair items are grouped together, all my meds are grouped together… you get the idea. That way, I can look at my baggies and know at a glance that yeah, I’ve got everything. But to satisfy the TSA, I have to break up these happy families of personal care products and put the liquids and gels and pastes together. In one baggie. And put it in my purse so I can whip it out for inspection. It’s toothpaste, for gawds sake. And mascara. And shampoo. And lotion. Excuse me while I slather my way to the front of the air bus and wave my lipgloss in your general direction. Geez. It’s just wrong. Wrong I say! (Okay, yes, I’m a little OCD.)
I suppose it would be a sucker bet to suppose that I’ll be in line behind an amateur traveler who packed big ol’ bottles of something they shouldn’t have and that they’ll annoyed and vigorously perturbed when they’re forced to dispose of their goodies? Oh yeah — and they’ll be wearing huge lace-up boots and lots of metal. Good times. Yep.