Episode 1: Lost luggage, or Transtroming across America

I prefer to travel light. Even when I'm not on the road, I'm always working on simplifying my rucksack.... the least possible weight with the greatest possible utility.

But when I decided to attend AWP ... the conference for the Association of Writing Programs... in Portland in March 2019, the anxious part of my brain convinced me that I might, at some point, need to look "professional." So, in addition to my rucksack, I packed a garment bag with a suit jacket, an extra pair of pants, and two button down shirts. I told myself a garment bag was still pretty light and that it wouldn't be too cumbersome, even after I decided to extend my trip into a month long jaunt.

A quick word about AWP: my concerns about looking professional were totally pointless because I've been away from academia too long and forgot that writer/academes are probably the market group keeping Birkenstock in business. But I had a lovely time, was able to see some friends, and spend a little time in a city struggling with with itself in these, the dark days of Trumplandia.

I was also able to buy a few books, most of which I stowed in my garment bag for the trip east. One of the books I bought was a selection by Swedish poet Tomas Transtromer...  a book I was excited about, but wanted to wait to dig into.

Leaving Portland was fine. I stopped off to visit my friend Dave and his wife Kristy in Minneapolis. But as my next stop was Mount Carroll, IL, there wasn't any good way to take the train; so I boarded the old gray dog once again.

I don't know why I checked the garment bag. I could have gotten away with taking on with me, but I thought I'd try and be a considerate traveler and follow the rules... after all, the bus was going to be crowded until Chicago.  And when I checked it, I tried to check it to Chicago, but the station attendant insisted I check it all the way to Stockton... which meant, even though I was changing buses, that they would also transfer my luggage. This has some advantage, especially when the bus is running late.

Or so I thought.

We rolled in Chicago for about an hour behind schedule... which left me just enough time to get on my next bus before missing it. And when I got to Stockton, IL, I found that my garment bag and Transtromer did not make it with me.

Now, I did all the things. I called and made a claim at the Chicago Station. They were very nice, but not optimistic. When I rolled back through Chicago after leaving Mount Carroll, the station workers let me check the luggage storage to see if it was there.  It wasn't.

And I suppose I should have been more upset. But I lost the pill container I carry my daily vitamins in when I was in Portland. I inadvertently left a pair of underwear in Mount Carroll. I was more annoyed about losing the book of poetry than I was my suit jacket, which costs more to replace. I also ended up losing a library book, which I had to replace. 

The lesson here, I suppose, is one that I already knew and, if I hadn't been so anxious about being out of place at AWP ... where everyone is out of place by the nature of being a writer, an academic (or both), or, God help them, a publisher... I would have followed:

if I can't carry it on my back or in my pockets, I don't need it.

So if there is anything for you to take from my not very woeful tale of woe, dear friends, it's this:

pack light.

Thanks for listening. Be sure to follow my on Instagram and on Twitter. The handle for both is dirtysacred. Take care, and may the path rise up to meet your feet.