Posted: August 9, 2011 in Philly Story
Tags: , , , ,

It was excitement that woke me up the morning of June 10th 1999. To ensure I was perfectly organized I’d packed and repacked multiple times in the week leading up to my departure date. Hours had been spent strategically organizing the one rucksack (albeit huge) I was taking with me. Compartments had been tested in multiple scenarios till my luggage had been jigsaw’d into place allowing for the most efficient use of space. I admit there was a certain amount of pleasure that came from my almost OCD packing. I had almost convinced myself that there would be a special luggage examiner whose job was not to check for potential hazards but rather to assess the quality of ones packing. Best one gets a free first class upgrade. This was the thought that went through my mind as I stood out of bed into the carefully organized piles I’d emptied from my rucksack the night before and fallen asleep before repacking them.


“MUM! What time is it?”

“We’re leaving in ninety minutes, you better hurry up.”

The rest is blank. It wasn’t till we were in the car driving to the bus station that my memory returned.  Panicking, I started to go through a check-list in my head but this bloody awful iron taste in my mouth was distracting, so I gave up. I went over the basics; me, check; passport, check; plane ticket, check; unknown contents of luggage, check.

Oh my god, did I shower?


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