Second, Pack

I'm the district chairman again. A little part of me -- no, a large part of me -- was sort of hoping that someone else would get the call. There is no greater joy than constantly getting your colleagues repeated support through reelection to a job no one else wants. I guess I do it okay, but there was the screwup this year, so I'll be definitely on the warpath with yet another failsafe next time.

Sigh...

Anyhow, my mind isn't on debate much at this point, three days away from liftoff. Now it's time to think about packing. More rules:

1. Bring the fewest number of books guaranteed to last the trip. This is tough, and I've talked about it already. You've got to fill up airplane time with something you're sure to like. And you don't want to lug every book ever written if one of them doesn't work out, so one magnum opus is the goal. I do recommend starting to read your choice a couple of days before you leave; that way, if you don't like it, you've still got a chance to replace it.
2. Bring a music player. You will need something for airports and other places devoid of native charm, where it's even too uncomfortable to read. Unfortunately, you'll probably have to bring a charger and a plug converter. That's just the way it is. The alternative is to sit quietly and stare at the walls. I'm willing to take on the extra weight.
3. Don't bring the computer, no matter how tempting it is. Sure, Little Elvis is light, and it would fill up every moment when I'm not staring at Klimt paintings, but this is a vacation. Therefore, vacate. The only possible use of a PC would be to create a diary of the trip, but weighed against lugging a computer, na'ah.
4. Bring a moleskin. Take your notes there. If you're so inspired, write them up when you return.
5. Camera with a gigabyte chip, which is enough to take a gazillion pictures. Plus charger. Plus camera manual, because you need to refresh on all the features you never use.
6. Magazines. Don't expect to find anything at the airport, because they just don't make magazines like they used to. I grab the latest New Yorker, Mac Addict and maybe Wired and (if I can find it) Legal Affairs, and that oughta hold me. Magazines are for takeoffs, landings, and waiting to get into the bathroom in the morning.
7. Snacks. They are not going to feed you well on the airplane. And the next morning, when you're jetlagged and roaming through the Prague airport trying to find your next flight, there's no guarantee there will be any dumpling salesman available. Be prepared.
8. The lightest backpack known to science. Why add any extra weight? When I arrive, I empty it off all this stuff and carry it around empty, filling it with the handful of items I will purchase on the ground, which is usually the official guidebooks from the museums we go to.
9. PDA, because it has all the info on the trip, plus a Hold 'Em game. I probably will jettison this before leaving, but I'm still considering it.
10. Clothes. I do not believe that I am on vacation to do laundry, so I bring enough to cover the entire trip. I also never throw clothes away during the year, and what I bring with me on vacation is all the clothes that I otherwise would have thrown away, which I will throw away now after I wear 'em. That is, say I'm about to toss a shirt. I say to myself, I'll wash this one more time and bring it on vacation. Then, when I wear it in Timbucktu, no one will care that I'm wearing an old shirt, and I can throw it away when I'm done. This way my luggage gets progressively lighter (theoretically) as the trip progresses. This probably only works for someone like me, who never buys any clothes much different from the clothes I've bought before; I simply rotate the crops, so to speak, moving along with a Circle of Life approach to attire. It works for me. It does keep me from getting my photo in the Fashions of the Times magazines, but you can't have everything.
11. Crossword puzzles for takeoffs and landings. I clip the Saturdays during the year that I don't have time for, so there will be a handful for vacation. Takes your mind off the impossibility of something as large as an airplane getting airborne.

Bottom line: try to be as minimalist as you can. The above, to me, is my minimalism. Everything I bring, I have to carry. So, the less I bring, the better, short of looking like I'm homeless. Or not looking like I'm homeless more than, say, about half the time.