Weigh To Go

I should have known when I busted the zip trying to do up the first suitcase that I’d overdone it on the packing front. But no. I just dragged a bigger version out of the attic and found even more crap to fill that with.

I’m not naturally one to travel light.

That said, the preparations for this trip have been a particular nightmare. With so many different eventualities to plan for, I’ve found the whole thing an exercise in torture. Firstly, there’s the whole hair mousse situation. I’m away for six months and frankly I’d rather die than spend a single day sporting a ‘do reminiscent of a circa 1970’s Michael Jackson. So that’s 15 or so bottles of product - around 10kg’s - right there.

Then there’s all my yoga paraphernalia. I plan to practice twice daily while I’m in Goa – and pick up a bit of teaching work while I’m at it – so I need a variety of options. Add to that bikinis, sarongs, sundresses, a few smart outfits and a couple of pairs of heels for business meetings, trainers, flip flops, some colder climate clothing (just in case), medical supplies, a few books, a couple of handbags and the full spectrum of underwear – for everyday, fat days, period days and those times when I’d like my man to know that I’m sluttishly available – and all of a sudden, I’m packing some serious poundage. I nearly broke a toe hoiking this little lot down the stairs last night.

But it was only when I arrived at check-in this morning that I discovered just how ludicrously over-bloated my load really was. For a start, I had to recruit the help of a porter and a nice American chap checking in at the counter next to mine just to lift the damn case on to the scales. It came in at 40 kilos…almost the same weight as me. No worries I thought. Only double the allowance. Perhaps a small excess baggage charge to pay.

But the jaw-on-the-floor expression I got from ‘Anne’, my check-in lady, told me otherwise. Apparently, my suitcase had cruised way beyond the limit of excess baggage, past the territory of ‘heavy load’ and had veered into the arena of health and safety regulations contravention. My case had been grounded.

But Anne - God love her -had a plan.

I needed to get myself a second case. Anne suggested a carry-on as I was allowed to take two of those on board. She just needed me to jettison 15 kilos to get my big case down to into the respectable heavy load bracket, which she said she’d waive the charge on. Then I was good to go.

Sadly, this was not as straightforward as Anne had made it seem. The only place that was selling luggage that morning was a store located at the farthest end of the terminal. A twenty-minute trek away. No mean feat when you have a two-ton travelling tumour to tow behind you. Nevertheless, I did manage to find a nice compact wheelie companion for it, before setting off on the long haul back to Anne’s loving bosom.

Only by the time I got back, Anne wasn’t there. She’d finished her shift. Some woman named Sinead was now in her hot seat. Sinead had a face like a sucked mango and the swagger of a person who thoroughly despised life. Needless to say she made me feel about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit. I tried to explain my situation, bring her up to speed on Anne’s plan, but she remained hell-bent on slapping me with an extortionate £160 charge. As far as she was concerned I was some kind of travelling imbecile. And I was now cluttering up her check-in desk.

I, on the other hand, was reaching the point of a full body meltdown.

And that’s when Frank stepped in. Frank was the porter who’d assisted me during my first check-in phase. He was well versed in my plight. And like Anne, he seemed to be some kind of check-in guru, who took great pleasure in finding ways to beat the system. He immediately took me under his wing, escorted me to an area where I could reconfigure my cases, then dispatched me back to Sinead with instructions to waive me through, free of charge.

Sinead had no other option but to comply and within moments, I had my boarding card. I was finally on my way. I just had the small matter of getting through security.

Except that security, as it turned out, was no small matter…

As painful as modern airport security channels can be, I have to say I usually have the system pegged and can generally clear them without much of a kerfuffle. Transparent bag for liquids and laptop are normally at the top of my carry-on. Shoes and jacket are off well in advance. I don’t wear any jewellery to avoid setting off the detectors and I always leave the drugs and guns at home. I’m never frisked and my belongings are never subjected to a second check.

Today, however, thanks to my two carry-on bags situation, I got well and truly snaffled. In my haste to off-load as much weight as I could from my check-in suitcase, I’d placed a range of taboo items in the new bag, which managed to set every security alarm ringing. I was consequently molested from top-to-toe by some uneducated goon; forced to unpack all my belongings so that they could be swabbed and had several bottles of hair mousse, shampoo and perfume confiscated.

I spent the remaining time before boarding inhaling wine just to recover from the whole ordeal.

Mercifully, the minute I got on the plane, all the stresses and woes of the morning seemed to disappear. While the aircraft was packed to the rafters, somehow, I’d managed to land an entire middle row to myself. I wondered whether my new check-in friends Anne or Frank had some part to play in this? Or maybe it was just a benevolent gift from the universe. A sign to say that I was now heading in the right direction. So shortly after take-off, I unbuckled my seatbelt, sprawled myself out across those four seats and slept like a child all the way to Bangalore.

Since arriving in India, everything seems easy. I still have another two hours to wait before I can complete the final leg of my journey – the one-hour flight to Goa. But having checked-in both my cases without so much as a raised eyebrow and with the welcoming arms of my beautiful boyfriend waiting to envelope me once I get there, I now feel considerably lighter.