The Unpretentious Traveller

G and I are lovers of luggage. Our house is bursting with cases that have been tucked away, waiting for their next installment of baggage tags and carousel drop offs. We now have a range of sizes and colours, each with its different identifier – a ribbon here, a fluorescent piece of tape there. You would possibly expect when you travel as much as G we’d be lugging around some nice hardware, maybe something a bit high end? A bit posh.

Not so much.

G may cherish his luggage, but it’s more about the romance than the price tag. He loves a suitcase that has been scuffed and marked, he cherish’s the chalk marks left by the customs officers, and takes forever to remove the bag tags and stickers left behind. I’ve always known this about G, within our first week together he told me “I love a suitcase that looks like it has a story to tell”. His suitcase at the time had more than a story, it was more a 12 part documentary, and it wasn’t pretty.

I, on the other hand, cannot contain my superficiality. I covert those with the shiny suitcases. If you’re one those people, you may have noticed me in an airport looking longingly at your Louis Vuitton, or running my fingers along your Samsonite seams.

I dream of walking into a store and slowly investigating my luggage options, but it’s not about to happen anytime soon.

G and I like to perform a holiday ritual of baggage multiplication. What begins as a two suitcase journey will turn into three, who am I kidding, four, and a desperate stop at the $2 shop for a red white and blue bag on the way to the airport. Consequently, we have a plethora of suitcases and carry ons of the cheap and nasty variety. They line the tops our cupboards; our last minute, panicked, I can’t fit it all in, we need to buy a suitcase now, purchases.

Which is why my husband now travels first class with a suit bag from Walmart. He really could not care less. This is the man who takes his lunch to work in a plastic bag, the man who uses his son’s Power Rangers Kindergarten backpack to take sailing on the weekend. My husband will never be accused of being pretentious.

One day, when I’m a grown up, I will have matching luggage. I may not be afford to travel anywhere, but I will have matching luggage.

How about you?

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