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Monday, September 22, 2003

Luggage We’re going on the road for the next two weeks. I’m a fast, efficient packer. Harvey’s anxious and obsessive. We used to go to bed, packed and ready to go. In the middle of the night I would wake up and find that Harvey had unpacked everything and spread it all over the floor. He had to make sure something or other was really included in one of the bags. The rustling and grumping noises that got me up were the sounds of him failing to fit everything back together, into the suitcases. He’s more relaxed these days, or so I thought. He panicked at the LAX luggage carousel on our last trip. The suitcase he tried to swing up and off the rolling belt wouldn’t budge. Neither would Harvey, who held it in a half tackle, pulled along with his legs hanging off. As he rode around, half lying on the bag, he began to mow down bystanders with his feet. Women shrieked, fearing their children were in danger. (The kids were bent over double, laughing.) “How rude!” “So dangerous!” “Who IS that man?” It took a while for me to break through the melee and grab his belt. He was riding the wrong generic black bag with wheels. Among Danielle’s toys I found 6 identical baby dolls dressed in pink pajamas and Christmas bows, stamped with some fast food logo. They once filled out a plastic bag of Sailor Moon characters found at a yard sale. I’ve put a noose around each of the idiot children’s neck and am tying them to our suitcases. Will they help Harvey identify our bags as we touch down in San Francisco? Stay tuned. Or come on down to the airport and watch the Olympics. 10:49:24 AM