The Life and Times of Patricia, the Cheap Old Bag Part I

I bought Patricia last year for sixty dollars, which I recouped when Lufthansa poked a hole in her on her virgin voyage. Some folks would toss the bag and buy and sturdier, more stylish case; I taped that baby up and gloated to friends, “She might be ugly, but she’s paid for.”

She? Patricia . . . my suitcase. I name all my suitcases.

Last Christmas, when Patricia failed to arrive with me in Washington, I didn’t blink. She’d arrive a few hours later—I was sure of that.

Ten days later, when Patricia was finally on her way to Nashville, I was finally on my way back to Munich.

“I had to wash all the clothes in the suitcase,” my mother said on the phone from Nashville. “It looks like someone left the case out in the rain or the snow.”

The thought of Patricia alone for days on end in the snow was troubling, but then perhaps I was taking this cute personification too far. Still, I was angry at United Airlines for mistreating my case. She was pretty ugly and cheap. Maybe Patricia had been a victim of brandism. If she had been a Louis Vuitton would she have been so neglected? I don’t think so.

A month later I returned to Nashville, at which time I retrieved Pat, retaped her and filled her with the usual US goods I take back to Germany: family-size Listerine, family-size body lotion, family-size alcohol-free toner, etc. I do not have a family.

“Aren’t you worried that all that liquid will spill in that suitcase? It’s so flimsy,” my father said.

“Why is everyone dissing Patricia? She’s perfectly fine,” I said as I wrapped her in duct tape.

Stocked up on American-size products, I gently placed Pat in the back of the truck and we took off for the airport. This time I was flying US Air (not Lufthansa or United), so I just knew Pat would be in better hands.

Next week, I’ll wrap this tale up, but right now . . .

I must be off,


  1. This post reads like a short-short story.

    Ever noticed how Lufthansa and Luftwaffe sound the same? No, me neither. :)

  2. I name my cars! Must be a deeply 'seated' desire for a travel companion. And you, someone to carry your load? Now - how the heck to you get FAMILY-SIZED anything through customs?

  3. When leaving Rhodes, I over-stuffed my softbag with retsina - unlike most, I love the stuff. Way over my legal limit. I wrapped each bottle in a newspaper to stop them rattling.

    A storm was coming in fast when we had to dash across the runway to our plane and, though it shouldn't have, it then took off.
    Horrendous flight, shaking and rattling and lights flickering off. People screaming everywhere.

    We eventually cleared that storm, which proceeded to wreck the island and kill many, then hit another over Yugoslavia - as it was then called. More rattling and flickering and screaming.

    Finally back at Heathrow, I collected my bag - it was sodden wet.
    For the first time ever, I was stopped for a bag search. The man opened it up and grabbed a handful of still sodden papier mache.

    He dropped it in disgust and waved me on.

  4. Retsina? Yuck. I've had it a few times and cannot acquire that taste. The same happened to me with two bottles of Lemoncello.

    Hi, Jen! Well, the liquid was in my checked Patty. :)

    Die Deutsche Luftwaffe, Mark, have an offer on now to reinstate frequent flyer status when you fly 15 times this year. I'm well on my way to my goal. I want my status back, Lufty!

  5. 目標是什麼不重要,目標能產生什麼樣的效果才重要..................................................

  6. Ni hao ma, Chinese pornography person?

    Hmmm. I wonder how you say "You're barking up the wrong tree" in Chinese.

    I no likey see Chinese girl take clothes off. :)

    But xie xie all the same.

    Christopher :)


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