Last weekend Hubby and I went to his class reunion. We were both going to be gone two days, both staying in the same hotel, both doing the same things, (well, he planned on doing some hiking, I planned on eating the free breakfast in the hotel.)
We packed our bags and put them in the car. Hubby had a back pack and, since he was taking his laptop, one other small bag.
I had my big purse, a brief case, and my three foot tall, 20 inches deep, on wheels with a special handle and will never get itself on an airplane super suitcase.
He came home with most of the clothes he packed unused. (Well, he never did go hiking. Opted for coffee with an old friend instead.) Me, I used everything in that bag, and wished I'd brought one or two more things.
Why the difference? Well, last night I watched Hubby pack for his weekend on the East Coast with his mom, and I realized something:
Men simply do not have to have a Plan B.
Women, we all know Plan B. Plan B is the outfit you bring if the place you're going is more formal than you thought. Plan B is bringing two extra pairs of shoes in case you 1) Break a heel or 2) need something more formal/casual/comfortable. Plan B is bringing every toiletry and feminine product you might every need because, as I'm sure every single one of us has discovered at one time or another, hotel maxi pads are less protective than a wad of toilet paper and Walmart just isn't always open 24 hours a day. And of course, once you've had an early onset of your "monthly visit" not only do you need the aforementioned products, but you're probably going to need an extra outfit. And another dark outfit...just in case. (I stopped wearing white pants at the age of 16 and I won't ever wear them until menopause has given me the all clear. I wear black, dark blue, and darker blue. That's it.)
Men don't need a plan B because they have wash and wear hair. Ladies, it doesn't matter, does it, if we're gone for one day or ten. If we sleep on the hair, we need to do complete reconstruction the next day. That means shampoo (hotel shampoo bottles aren't even single serve anymore.) Conditioner (ditto) hair gel, hair spray and hair tools. Yes, most hotels do have hair driers. But, as my Party lite leader once howled to a hotel roomful of consultants at a conference, "This hotel hair dryer's got no balls!"
Once you have clothes and toiletries packed...then there's the question of pillows. I don't know about you, but I have to take my own pillow along. Hotels never give you enough pillows, unless you're sleeping in a room along and it's one of those king sized beds with six pillows on it, because hotel pillows are sad, unfluffy pillows that serve little purpose. Plus, if you're driving, you need that pillow for in the car. Who wants to sleep in the car without a pillow? Not this girl!
Men don't need a Plan B, because if a man forgets a tweezers or a razor, he simply gets the "woodsy" look. Women aren't allowed to be woodsy.
Oh, and if a man goes someplace and finds out he needs a swimsuit, no problem! He goes to the nearest Big Box store, plunks down $15.99 and has a suit that fits.
If we go someplace and find out we need a suit, we don't go swimming. Picking out a swim suit, for a woman, is almost as hard as picking out a name for a baby. There's style, and fit, and cut, and color, and material, and "problem areas." Once we have a suit, it better last us a good long time and no, a quick trip to the Big Box store not fix the situation. It will only end in heartache. We might buy a suit, but it will cost $40 easy, and it will become something we loathe.
As I watched my husband pack his 3 ounce bottles of shampoo for a four day weekend, I realized the terrorists have won. I won't fly anymore if I can help it. Between the airlines who now charge for you for the privilege of losing your bags to the security rules about explosive conditioner, I'm sorry, I simply can't pack that way. I have no room for Plan B packing!
In the battle to control who flies and who does not, the terrorists win over the airlines. See, the terrorists know about Plan B.
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