It's a Backpack With Wheels!

Ever hold the vision of a moment in your mind for months at a time? I suppose we all anticipate future scenarios. Some people believe you actually create those happenings by thinking and dreaming about them coming true (there’s a great book about this phenomenon called, The Secret—thanks, Shomit). I shouldn’t say that I dreamt about my particular moment, it would be unkind to hope for it to come true. But I certainly did think about it. And I certainly envisioned it in fairly vivid detail. This vision became very real on a beach in Bali. Allow me to set the scene.

We had big plans for the day. The manager of our beach bungalow hotel kindly made our van arrangements the night before. We met our driver at a quarter of ten, and without delay began the erratic road dance of moped dodging. We had a boat to catch. We were to board a passenger watercraft to Nusa Lembongan, a tranquil island located within one hour’s journey from the east coast of Bali. The boats to Nusa Lembongan depart from the village of Sanur—a long way from the resorts and Italian boutiques that typically characterize the western view of Bali. Our driver disposed of us a half kilometer from the beach, very conveniently at the footsteps of a grotesque souvenir shop and an ATM machine. We grabbed our bags and tramped down the colorful road to the boat.

By the time we reached the beach Jeannie had accumulated salty dew on her forehead and collarbone. The morning was hot. Balinese bustled up and down the beach and along the sidewalk that shanks the shore. A steep ramp adjoined the road’s end and the sand’s beginning. We studied the waterline for the dock that would unite us with our boat. No such thing. Our boat bobbed in the water, a sure twenty foot wade from dry land. This was the moment of truth.

For three weeks now Jeannie has survived brilliantly with her luggage situation. After months of debate, incessant balancing of pros and cons, and more than a healthy serving of my input, Jeannie made the personal decision to invest in a suitcase. As a devout proponent of the backpack, I cautioned her strongly against the pitfalls of the traditional suitcase. So Jeannie thought she discovered the perfect compromise when she found a suitcase with both wheels and “shoulder straps.” This piece of luggage has an extremely generous allowance for filler, so naturally, it was filled up. It became filled to the point where the straps are now completely obsolete. They’d surely snap like an overstretched rubberband if they were ever employed. I like to call her bag, “The Crate.”

With our toes at the end of the ramp, about to descend across the sand to our boat teetering in the waves, we exchanged a glance that contained a million thoughts. More thoughts than I could ever hope to include here. With all my belongings bound tightly to my back (and for the record, capable of running to the boat if need be), I waited for her next move. In true Jeannie fashion, she took a deep breath, and defiantly marched down the ramp to the sand below. She towed that bag a hundred feet across the beach, the wheels leaving a design in the sand never before seen by the Balinese. Two bold footprints, followed by winding symmetrical grooves. She was like Neil Armstrong staking the American flag on the moon.

This was the moment I had played over in my mind countless times—the moment that Jeannie’s luggage came crashing against the realities of the developing world. In our great bag debates before we left home, I did my best to paint the ugliest, most inconvenient and uncomfortable scenarios for Jeannie. I think one of those scenarios actually included a beach and a boat. What I didn’t envision, but most certainly should have, was Jeannie arriving on the scene and doing what she always does—conquering the challenge.