D is for departure

Here we are, D-day, and I am petrified.

I know I'm bringing too much. Packing was more of an ordeal of what to leave behind, instead of what to bring. Supplements alone take up a fair amount of the suitcase:

• multi-vitamins
• emergen-c
• calcium-magnesium-zinc tablets (for muscle cramps & immune support)
• kelp tablets (again, to prevent muscle cramps)
• and of course, a handy 7-day pill case that resembles a miniature alien craft, to ration them all.

I'm a traveling co-op, or a senior citizen in training.

Lara has given me a thermal water bottle cover, a card for every week of training, and lent me her beloved Superlunch. Superlunch is the thermal lunch bag that got her through training. She still uses it and we refer to it in tones usually reserved for stuffed animals, loyal pets or adopted children.

Two months worth of yoga clothes, toiletries, tampons, regular clothes - probably bringing too many regular clothes, or the wrong ones. I'm leaving both my long skirts - the green and the beloved denim, in favor of shorter ones. I'm bringing a pair of, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, green shorts. Which I will only wear on weekends, well away from the studio.

I want to unpack & repack everything, just to make sure I need it all, or that I didn't forget anything. Carolan & Shelby each took a packed car with them to training. I'm trying to cram everything into one medium rolling suitcase. Finally checked it curbside, and have just my mega Kipling backpack, mat bag, and purse to contend with.

Airports are now like the rest of the world: it's no use stopping for Starbucks when you first get there, because there will be another a few yards away. Although I don't feel too burdened, I have the turning radius of a giant upright tortoise, pregnant with twins. I know tortoises lay eggs, but this is strictly for visual effect. Getting in & out of the bathroom stall is somewhat comic, & conjures images of grubby Euro-hostellers. I start to think of what I can chuck on the way back. Suddenly, I flash forward to a conversation:

Jenny: You sold Superlunch?
Me: Yes.
Jenny: How could you sell Superlunch?
Me: I couldn't bear schlepping it back, and someone offered me $5 for it, so --
Jenny: You sold Superlunch for five dollars? You might as well have thrown it out in the street.
Me: ----
Jenny: Well, I'm not telling Lara. You're gonna have to break it to her.

The advantage of traveling with someone is that one person can camp with the luggage, while the other grabs coffee or runs to the bathroom, unfettered by stuff. Shoulders, sanity and Superlunch are saved. The disadvantage: pack travels slow. Lone fox walk fast.

Everyone seems to have boarded without fuss, collision or even much luggage. It's sooo quiet on this plane. Who are these people going to LA early on a Saturday morning? Where is their stuff, and why are these lovely docile baggage-free people not on all the other flights I have taken? Are they just as tired and petrified as I am? If so, what the hell is waiting for them on the other side of ths flight?