Packing for the Con. Again.

If this post has a familiar ring to it, then you probably read it just about a year ago when it was first published. I rarely repost on here, but this post says everything I want to say about Comic Con starting tomorrow. And my preparations for it tonight.

So, enjoy it, again, and excuse my taking the easy way out by reposting. But if it ain't broke don't fix it. And besides, that Game Of Thrones costume isn't going to pack itself.

Tomorrow is the day it all starts. Well, the night actually.

Even though Comic Con doesn't officially begin until Thursday, tomorrow night is Preview Night. The costumed crowds get admitted to the Convention Center in the early evening to get a jump on the weekend crowds walking the floor and picking up some merchandise.

Of course I'll be there.

So that means tonight I have to pack. It's something I've never quite learned to do right. You'd think being in advertising and with all the boondoggles...er...business trips I've taken I'd be better at it. I'm not unskilled in the sense I don't know how to organize a suitcase. It's my approach to the job.

I pack on the Just In Case theory. You know, just in case there's a hurricane or blizzard in San Diego. Just in case we're hit by a tornado. Just in case we're invaded by aliens, which at Comic Con is a definite possibility.

Here's what's happened every year I've gone: I drag my overstuffed suitcase to the hotel, and proceed to wear the same pair of shorts for four days. All I really need is four t-shirts (yes Rich, black ones), four pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Maybe a clean pair of jeans, a nice pair of shoes and a collared shirt if I want to go eat somewhere nice.

But when you're in restaurants during Comic Con, and finally seated after a two and a half hour wait, it's not unusual at all to find yourself sitting next to Spartans, Batman, those guys from Game Of Thrones and Loki. Dressing nice becomes a relative term.

So I'll give it another shot this year, with the hope I can be a little more economical in how much I take with me.

Frankly, I think the bigger challenge will be closing the suitcase with this in it.

Pack it in

Arthur Schopenhauer once said, and I'm paraphrasing here, that the reason we buy so many books is because we believe we're actually buying the time to read them.

I believe the same holds true for luggage. We buy it because it holds the promise of travel.

I'm a big fan of luggage, which I briefly mentioned here.

The wife and I have been in need of some new luggage for awhile now. We have a whole passel of carry on bags, all of which are black except the pink/plaid one my daughter insisted I buy her at Target.

The Swiss Army carry on is the family favorite, and when we all travel somewhere together, or we're traveling to different destinations at the same time, it's the one everyone wants to use. So we augmented the collection with a few more - all black, none of them Swiss Army.

We completed the set with a medium-sized Boyt suitcase, and another massive, stupid large Boyt we could pack the house in. We found the large Boyt at a luggage store in Rockefeller Center about twenty-five years ago, and had it shipped back to Santa Monica where we lived at the time.

Apparently we hadn't figured out there were luggage stores in Los Angeles.

All these years later, the large suitcase finally gave out. The interior lining, and the glue that held it together, came undone when my son packed it up and I brought it back from Austin for him. All this to say we needed some new luggage.

If you know anything about me - and really, are there any secrets left? - you know I'm all about easy. And dragging a suitcase with two wheels around the airport was just too much effort. So we went looking for what the luggage industry calls spinners: suitcases with four wheels that spin 360° with just a feather touch.

There's a luggage store in Irvine I used to work across from, and they have an extensive collection of every brand, size and price you could want. So that's where we went. We did our due diligence, opening the suitcases up on the little demonstration tables they had, comparing suitcase to suitcase. Victorinox has this feature, but Briggs & Riley has this one. TravelPro looks a little clunky, but it's the one pilots use the most, and they know a thing or two about packing and travel.

After a long talk with Paul the sales person, who was from Texas and told us about the 6600 sq.ft. house he had custom built on five acres that he paid $151,000 for eighteen years ago, we made our decision right there. We need to take a second look at Texas real estate.

As far as suitcases, we wound up buying two Victorinox (Swiss Army) 27" suitcases. God help me, I love that new suitcase smell.

So now we're working on where the first trips will be where we can put them through their paces. I'll be at Comic Con with the son this week for a few days (post to come), so that'll be the first trip for one of 'em. And I have an idea where the next trip will be, but I'm not saying just yet.

For now I'm just enjoying traveling from the front of the house to the back, effortlessly rolling the whisper-quiet spinners around on the hardwood floor.

It's my way of checking them out before I check them in.

Conflict

I'll keep it short tonight for a couple of reasons. One is I have to travel early tomorrow. The other is I feel like I've visited this well a little too often and you, dear reader, may be yearning for another subject.

To which I say, see the "Next Blog" link at the top left there? Have at it. My blog, my subject.

And tonight's subject, as you can probably tell already, is conflict.

My son leaves for college tomorrow. On one hand, I couldn't be more proud and excited for him as he starts this next season of his life. Not to get too Seussian, but oh the places he'll go. The adventures he'll have. The friends he'll make. It will be rewarding for him in ways neither of us can even imagine.

On the other hand, my baby boy is leaving home. For eighteen years I've lived with him and quite frankly I don't know how to live without him. If you follow me on Facebook, you know I posted a link to an article Rob Lowe wrote about sending his son to college. He absolutely nails it. The experience is as joyous as it is heartbreaking.

I've tried, and admittedly done a lousy job, to keep a game face around him (my son, not Rob Lowe). I don't want him to feel like he can't leave me because I'll be reduced to a blubbering puddle of tears. Which I will, but he doesn't have to see it.

Anyway, tonight's post has been brought to you by Vent. Vent, when you just need to ramble on about it.

On a personal note, I know he doesn't read every single thing I post on here (thank God). But James, if you're reading this one, pack this in your suitcase: I love you and have always loved you more than either of us will ever know. You're more talented in more ways than any hundred people I know. And your heart is bigger than the state you're moving to - and that's saying something. I know I've told you already, but I just can't seem to stop saying it: I'm beyond proud, and can't wait to see the great things I know you're going to accomplish. You done good.

I like to think it's good parenting.

College boxing

I spent a lot of time today looking at stores with names like The Box Store, The Box Zone and The Box Spot.

As y'all may know, one week from today my son is shuffling off to a blue dot in a red state to attend film school.

So, completely counter-intuitively and not reflective at all of our track record, we decided not to wait until the last minute to get him packed and ready. Hence my shopping in the aforementioned stores.

The final take was five book boxes, and four flat wardrobe boxes. And I still think it's way too much. Our house has a large room in back that was added on - not by us - before we bought it. It's my son's bedroom, and he's used to having a lot of space for his stuff. He's also used to having a lot of stuff. So not surprisingly, he wants to take a lot of it with him.

We're trying to impress on him the fact that a) he won't have nearly the room he's used to when he gets to his dorm, b) whatever little space he has will be cut in half thanks to his roommate and whatever he's planning on bringing, and c) if he gets there and has room for more we can always send it to him later.

But for now it's a matter of culling the numbers, curating the items and thinning the herd. None of which is easy, for him or us.

Every object we pick up has a memory attached to it. That toy he played with as a kid. The picture of me holding him minutes after he was born. A book I made for him, filled with pictures of one of our many trips to Comic Con.

What am I saying? I'm saying there are two reasons he'll need to pack light. First is the small space he'll be working with when he gets there. And second is if he leaves most of his stuff here, I know he'll be back for it.

Until he is, those memories are mine to hold.

Packing for the Con

Tomorrow is the day it all starts. Well, the night actually.

Even though Comic Con doesn't officially begin until Thursday, tomorrow night is Preview Night. The costumed crowds get admitted to the Convention Center in the early evening to get a jump on the weekend crowds walking the floor and picking up some merchandise.

Of course I'll be there.

So that means tonight I have to pack. It's something I've never quite learned to do right. You'd think being in advertising and with all the boondoggles...er...business trips I've taken I'd be better at it. I'm not unskilled in the sense I don't know how to organize a suitcase. It's my approach to the job.

I pack on the Just In Case theory. You know, just in case there's a hurricane or blizzard in San Diego. Just in case we're hit by a tornado. Just in case we're invaded by aliens, which at Comic Con is a definite possibility.

Here's what's happened every year I've gone: I drag my overstuffed suitcase to the hotel, and proceed to wear the same pair of shorts for four days. All I really need is four t-shirts (yes Rich, black ones), four pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Maybe a clean pair of jeans, a nice pair of shoes and a collared shirt if I want to go eat somewhere nice.

But when you're in restaurants during Comic Con, and finally seated after a two and a half hour wait, it's not unusual at all to find yourself sitting next to Spartans, Batman, those guys from Game Of Thrones and Loki. Dressing nice becomes a relative term.

So I'll give it another shot this year, with the hope I can be a little more economical in how much I take with me.

Frankly, I think the bigger challenge will be closing the suitcase with this in it.