I’m going to date myself with this one…

The subject of luggage came up the other day at the office when Ellen shared that she’d recently purchased a carry-on with spinner wheels, guaranteed to fit under an airline seat.

We got to reminiscing about luggage – about how cool it once was to have a matched set of luggage and how she spent hours playing with her mom’s makeup case when she was a young girl.

That was a cue to share my suitcase story . . .

In the summer of 1978, I was living at home in Saginaw, Michigan – miserable. I’d graduated from Western Michigan University several months earlier, but hadn’t been able to find a decent job. I had vowed never to return to my depressed, rust-belt hometown, but had no other options. I did manage to find work in Saginaw, however – as a breakfast-shift hostess at the Holiday Inn on State Street.

Like I said, I was miserable.

Meanwhile, my best friend, Barbara, who had lived down the street from me, was enjoying an adventurous, purposeful life as a Peace Corps volunteer in the Philippines. I wrote her often, complaining bitterly about my sorry situation.

One day, I got a letter from her, suggesting that I meet her in Manila when she was finished with her Peace Corps assignment. Then we’d travel together throughout southeast Asia and India.

WOW! What an adventure! I jumped at the opportunity, even though I’d never traveled internationally (assuming Toronto doesn’t count). I was very strategic about it. First, I bought a one-way ticket to Manila. Then I applied for a passport. Only then did I tell my parents. (Pretty smart, huh?) Naturally, they were not pleased with my plan, but it was too late.

At that time, every guidebook and magazine article recommended traveling with mix-and-match polyester coordinates that didn’t wrinkle. I found sensible (but cute) walking shoes. I loaded up on extra batteries and film for my Kodak Instamatic camera. I bought a navy canvas suitcase with brown vinyl trim, and splurged on the matching shoulder tote.

Back in those days, you could graduate from college and still have money in the bank, so I bought $3,000 of American Express Traveler’s Cheques which fit neatly into a fabric pouch that I pinned into my undies. I was ready!

I landed in hot, stifling, muggy Manila in early September. The airport was a chaotic scene. They don’t respect personal boundaries like we do here. Lots of pushing and shoving. Barbara suggested we escape the chaos and congestion of the arrivals area to find cheaper taxis on a side road. She carried my shoulder tote and I schlepped my heavy suitcase. After a couple of blocks, I was dripping with sweat and it felt as if my arm was coming out of its socket.

(In those days suitcases didn’t have wheels!)

I soon realized that I was ill-prepared for the journey we had planned. Polyesters were impractical for the tropics (duh!). This problem was easily resolved after I bought a couple of peasant skirts and a few cotton shirts. The stupid suitcase was a bigger challenge. I knew we’d be traveling on a budget but had not realized that our standard of hotels wouldn’t have elevators, or that we’d walk many blocks to save money on transportation. I needed a backpack. I searched everywhere, but they were not for sale locally. Obviously, locals didn’t need them and (presumably) low-budget travelers arrive here with the proper equipment.

(And, of course, there was no Amazon Prime from which to order.)

Fortunately, I met a guy named Phil who was heading home to California. He offered to loan me his H-frame backpack.  “Just send it to me when you get back to the States.” I bought him a duffel bag and we transferred his stuff from the backpack to the duffel. At last – I was prepared for the adventure that awaited!

I boxed up my suitcase, shoulder tote, wrinkle-free clothes, sensible (but stupid) shoes and souvenirs and shipped everything home to Michigan. I added a big note: “DON’T WORRY, MOM!”

She didn’t heed my advice. For the next eight months my parents worried and wondered if I would ever come home. Particularly after Barbara and I parted company and I ended up traveling solo through Malaysia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Nepal and India. It was a transformational journey that changed the trajectory of my life. (And an experience I’ve written about quite often…)

But all good things come to an end. I finally ran out of money and had to return home. I booked a seat on an Iraqi Airways charter from Delhi to London (another story!) – and slept overnight on a bench at Heathrow Airport prior my trans-Atlantic flight. Arriving at Detroit Airport, the Customs agent conducted a very thorough inspection of my backpack, including tapping the hollow aluminum frames – looking for drugs. Seeing the places I’d visited, I was a prime suspect!

When I wrote to my parents about my plans to return home, my mom had reacted with a passive-aggressive message – advising me that they would not be able to pick me up in Detroit. “Your father gets nervous driving into the big city. Plus, it’s expensive to park. You managed to travel all around the world, young lady, so I’m sure you can figure out how to get yourself home.”

Ouch. Sigh.

My friends met me at the airport and drove me to Saginaw, stopping to buy me a burger at McDonalds, certain that I had missed fast food. (I had not.) Mom and Dad were relieved to see that I hadn’t shaved my head, and wasn’t wearing Hare Krishna robes.

Everyone said, “Thank goodness you haven’t changed!”

Little did they know . . .

As for that navy suitcase and matching shoulder tote, I’m sure they got stashed in our attic. Never to be used again.

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On the subject of “wheeled” suitcases . . .

They had certainly invented wheels by 1978, so why had nobody thought to attach wheels to a suitcase? I Googled it and learned that a guy named Bernard Sadow was lugging two heavy suitcases through an airport in Aruba in 1970 when he noticed a worker rolling a heavy machine on a wheeled cart.

He said to his wife, “You know, that’s what we need for luggage.” When he got home, he rigged a big suitcase with casters off a wardrobe trunk and attached a strap. “It worked!” he said.

But his invention, for which he holds US patent No. 3,653,474, was not an overnight success.

For many months he showed his prototype to department store buyers who were unimpressed. “They told me that men would not accept suitcases with wheels. It was a very macho thing.”

Finally, Macy’s ordered some and began advertising “the Luggage That Glides.” They took off.

Since there was no Macy’s in Saginaw, Michigan, and no Amazon – wheeled luggage was unknown to me in 1978. But it’s a good thing because I have a great story to tell as a result!

(Now, if they’d only invent “Self-Packing Suitcases!”)

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On the subject of old suitcases …

Several years ago, I posed with my mother’s old suitcase for a headshot to use on my business cards. I added the stickers for a little color and interest, but other than that, it’s as vintage as they get.

After my mother’s death, in 1989, I found a photo album documenting her trip out west with “the girls.” She traveled with four girlfriends to the wild, wild (American) west – in the summer of 1941. That surely was a gutsy, uncommon adventure for five young women on their own in the early 40s! Hmmm … I wonder if her mother worried about her?

I assume she used the same suitcase … 70 years prior to my photo shoot!

 

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Comments? Do you have a suitcase story to share?