My Baggage: INXS

Greetings from California, gang!
I got in yesterday, and boy are my arms tired!
(Has that joke ever been funny?)

Traveling is always jarring to me, especially when there's a time difference involved. I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn and my mom and I headed to JFK for me to catch my flight to SFO. Seeing as this is a stop on the way to Oz, I had two huge bags to check. I was worried about the weight limits, but thought that since I was only packing my cutest outfits, there was no way I could have more than 70 pounds in my bag. You can imagine my surprise when my spring/summer bag was placed on the scale and came in at 82.5 pounds!

Luckily, the lady at the check-in desk was feeling generous. The name on her tag read "Glo," and she kept calling me "Darling" and "Sweetheart." As my mother and I lamented the $100 fee, Glo covertly whispered, "Oh, just go ahead," all full of tenderness!

Upon arrival in SF, I was lucky enough to have my friend the Elite Gay Visionary pick me up in his ride. As we maneuvered my bags, we realized the first stop would have to be finding a third suitcase. Luckily, my former freshman year roommate came to fetch me and we roamed the streets in search of a duffel/sports bag.

NO LUCK.
As we climbed up treacherous hills, I started to freak out about this whole thing. Why am I going to Australia? I can't even pack properly! I'm certainly not cut out for a nomadic, backpacking, hippie lifestyle. As I started to feel tears well up (seriously), I realized that I had way more emotional baggage than clothing!

Would Qantas airlines refuse to let me on because my emotional baggage was too much? Would I tip the plane in unsavory directions with my worrying and freaking out?

Then, the following Australian tourism ad was brought to my attention last night.



I mean, racist leanings aside (what is with the barefoot Aboriginal youth coming to the confused white lady and showing her the way?), I guess I could find a boost from this ad. Perhaps I, too, will push my madness aside and jump into clear waters that got Nicole Kidman pregnant.

As I wait for my third bag to arrive, I shake off the annoyance of having to pay extra, and fight the urge to curse out Qantas representatives (how can I move to a foreign land for a year and NOT bring everything but the kitchen sink?!), and remember that soon I, too, will be finding myself through the help of a native.

For more on that cray cray commercial, check this out.