In my defense, I’ve gotten better. Two years ago, I took 6 pairs of shoes. Six. 육. In any language, that’s too many. I’m down to two. Except for the hiking boots. But man, my black shiny patent leather shoes are so cool. Hmmm….mayyybe. Awww, my “golf shoes”. Look at em all cute like, posing for approval. NO.
I’ve got the bags ready to dehydrate my clothes into unrecognizable pickled tops, pants and dresses. Nestled amongst the Easter grass of clothing are American snacks requested by my friends in Korea whose taste buds are homesick. I’ve got a book or two for Sarah, souvenirs from the good old USofA for friends already collected and those I will make. My passport is in my stylish “booty bag” I will keep zippered and stapled to my midriff so as not to panic when I freak out and try to find it before I remember it is, indeed, plastered to my stomach….to avoid panic.
I’ve chosen selected reading material to keep me occupied on my FOURTEEN HOUR FLIGHT. I ordered The Burnout Society, thinking it would be a deep, engaging subject that could quite possible take all fourteen hours. It came in the mail and I took it out and held it in my hand, staring. It’s…..thin. So thin, I might could read it before we get our first set of Biscoff cookies.
I will need another book. Except, will I? I have this hang up. I do not want to be “that person” in any situation and actually use the overhead light in case I keep my seat neighbor awake. Last flight? The man next to me, turned his head TOWARD ME and fell fast asleep. There I sat, the plane lights turned off to allow others to sleep. The industrial strength metal arm attached to the screen to watch movies was immovable without causing an earthquake like seat tremor and I could. not. get it to move. That option was removed. So. I sat and stared at nothing. Excuse me. I meant, I stared at the wall in front of me, me with my fancy bulkhead premium seat purchased with my points. At least I had a roomy seat to do nothing in, until my new friend, his head turned to me and sleeping like a baby, woke up. It took him 3 hours, by the way. I know this because in between staring at the wall, I stared at my phone.
I’m down to 3 dresses. Look. I like clothes, ok? And Korean people look nice. Always. Any kind of weather. I don’t think they sweat. I don’t think their hair changes into any form other than perfect. I don’t know how they do it but they can wear jeans and a t shirt and still look Vogue ready. So, I enjoy dressing cute there. My friend suggested that I not bring very many clothes and just buy some there. I told my friend that I cannot find color ANYWHERE in Korea; that it is a veritable tsunami of black, white and beige everywhere I go. He told me I didn’t try hard enough. I heard a challenge, so THIS trip….I will go to the traditional markets and I will prove to him that I tried. If I find color, I will not let him know. But I will secretly buy it. Because, my friends, Korean people know how to dress. I have to make myself not stare at them when I’m there. They are beautiful people, no matter what color they are wearing. Still, they wear black, white and beige. Just saying..
I turn my attention to plane attire. I can never remember if I’m always too cold or too hot in a plane/airport/running to the gate. I am usually the opposite of whatever I decide to wear. I try and pick something that is not too difficult to grab in the plane restroom in the event of turbulence during my visit. And something that doesn’t lean over and wrap itself around the face of the people I have to climb over as I make my way there. I am a window seat person End of discussion.
I will pack all the toiletries in my checked bag this time and trust that, if my makeup ends up in Bali, I can make my way to the nearest Olive Young store before anyone sees me. Note to self. Bring masks. I used to take a carry-on that could have been used as a body bag. Trying to go to the bathroom in an airport stall was risky. I’ve almost gotten myself wedged in beyond rescue. I’ve grown wiser. Now I have a small rolling backpack, purple, of course. It makes me look like I know what I’m doing. I feel all sassy about myself, pulling my smart looking little roll away, hoping it doesn’t actually roll away, and hearing that sound of it’s eager little wheels making that airport sound that makes my heart beat faster. I want to call out, “Hey! Look at me! I’m one of you world travelers now! Aren’t I grown up?!” I will slip in a couple of extra snacks now that I will be in Comfort Plus rather than “big shot land”. I used up too many points last time. Instead of, “Welcome aboard, Ms. Belanger. We have your chia seed cherry custard ready,” it will be…”I’m sorry. We’ve run out of the chicken two seats ahead of you. Also there’s turbulence expected now for the next 12 hours. So, no cabin service. See you there. There’s water in the bathroom but I wouldn’t drink it.”
So, I stand before my suitcase, my 4th trip to Korea beginning to beat the drum of anticipation, and I am sweating with resistance at not adding …. just in case.