Clutching my carry-on

I approached organizing for this trip the way I have approached developing a unit of study or a piece of writing. Each day I worked on my lists, sorting through my belongings, calling my fashion consultants, Margie, Jeanne, Thais and Leslie, playing dress up at Susan's, shopping for the necessary missing pieces.
Josh had suggested "story boarding" my outfits. I'll just say I stopped short of that. Margie buzzed my hair and I packed my wigs for a bit more versatility. I bought straps for my suitcase to cinch its bulging waist and bungie cords to secure my backpack to the suitcase. I filled a fannypack with my ipod, phone, tiny wallet and a passport holder with a note from my doctor. I layered my clothing. Really layered my clothing.

When I arrived at JFK, a young woman helped me at Aer Lingus' self check-in and suggested I check my bag because it looked too heavy. I told her I couldn't and she let me go. Thank god, I put all my liquids in plastic bags, but I didn't read the information carefully-2 quart-sized baggies-one for drugs and the other for products. Let's just say I had a few gallons of product and I had bought the bottles at Bed Bath and Beyond that you can fill up yourself. Well, the federal government wants officially labeled bottles so those were confiscated.

After a lecture and a sample of what my bags should look like in the future-the security woman gave me two bags and put some of my things in them. After inspection, she returned all but two of my items to me. She wasn't smiling when she looked at a half used tube of hand cream that had been 4 ounces and I said-"Can't be more than two ounces now." She pushed it back in the bag and said "That's not how it works." I was a nervous wreck, ready for a debate, but decided that smiling, nodding and thanking her for her understanding was the better route.

I was really anxious; I could feel a pounding in my chest. Once through security, I had to repack my bags. I sat down at the gate and felt the eyes of some people near me on my bags. Clearly I had more than most people around me--much more and now I was in bag-lady mode rearranging all my things and sweating so I was removing my fleece, my shrug, my sweater until I comfortable in two tank tops.

Sandy had given me this great backpack with wheels that I'm using as my pocketbook. It's heavy as hell and I've draped my raincoat over my shoulder with an air of casualness in order to camouflage the size of it as I drag my wheelie behind me to board the plane.

My doctor has given me a note indicating that I needed the bulkhead seat and the booking agent at Aer Lingus promised me that as of the booking date there were no babies seated the with me.
When I boarded the plane, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had all four seats to myself. All my gear--luggage, raincoat, boots went up above.

I had to change planes in Dublin so once again I gathered up all my things and bungied them together. I dragged my belongings through passport control and round what seemed to be an endless circle until--guess what--I had to go through security again. I actually used 10 plastic bins for clothing I had to remove, plastic bags I had to take out, laptop, boots--no lectures in Dublin--just a big mess to reamass. Once again I was repacking. This time when I got on the plane the flight attendant eyed my bags and said I'd have to check one. I told her about my medication and that I would have to look through my bags. I had the first seat on the plane. I stowed my wheelie overhead and tried to stow my backpack under my seat but flight attendant said that space was for the person behind me. So while others boarded I stowed my backpack in the over head compartment and went back to my seat. Mission accomplished!