Papa's Got A Brand New Bag !
Posted By Paul Kotik on 30 August 2004
I know I'm not supposed to say so, but I think travel is a pain in the butt. I find it very annoying that the entire range of diving conditions and all of my underwater cronies aren't within, say, a ten-minute drive of my house. I don't like airports, airplanes, customs, passport control or unintelligible road signage.
The world, from my point of view, is badly designed. Why must everything be all spread out like this ? There it is, though, and I devoutly take it as it is rather than delude myself that it's as I wish it were.
So I travel. I fly. I recently had a charming letter from my favorite airline congratulating me on making their Million Mile Club and granting me lifetime elite flyer status. This means I get some upgrades to first class, little dishes of microwaved mixed nuts, and cool tags for my luggage.
None of this means a thing to me, for I am still faced with the harsh reality of all Flying Freedivers: there is no such thing as the perfect gear bag. Only a lunatic would check his dive gear and risk sitting on his hands at his destination for one ? two ? three days ? THE ENTIRE STAY ? ....while the airline breaks hourly promises to find the luggage and deliver it. No, the dive gear is carry-on, and there's and end on it. Non-negotiable.
Carry on in what, though ? We have all these awkward objects. Long blade fins, wet suits, masks, computers, snorkels, ropes.... what not ?
Most have opted for the familiar blue bag, the only one, really, on the market that is at all adequate. For me it was love at first sight. It was such a vast improvement over everything that preceded it, namely, nothing, that vows were exchanged at once and we were wedded. The blue bag ( less blue now, thanks to the sun's mighty rays) was with me for most of those million miles. It served me well.
So did my record player, but to everything there is a time and a purpose.
Everybody knows the blue bag's shortcomings.
It zips open at one end, which means packing it is like making sausage, or muzzle-loading an old-style cannon. The blades neatly fill the space, but everything else takes pot luck and, as they say, objects do shift in flight.
Unpacking it is, not to put too fine a point on it, an exercise only a proctologist could love. It involves blindly reaching into this dark, malodorous cavity and fishing around for slimy things. They've been in the ocean, right ? Maybe they got perfectly rinsed before you made your flight, but then again, maybe not.
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