Plastic Boy

In 1970 I had my first experience with back pain. Nasty low back pain which developed into years of coccyodynia (look it up) and sciatica. It plagues me to this day and in a circuitous way is the reason I ended up in medicine. For that I am thankful but for no other reason.

The burden of increasing amounts of stuff to cart when travelling urged me to find a solution. Charlotte and I have tried most types of luggage. For a while I thought the bags with wheels was the way to go. Their bulk doomed them. The big 3-D rectangles can hold an amazing amount, and the superstructure needed for the retracting handle and two wheels adds another few pounds. I found getting them up into an airplane’s storage bin, and then dragging them up and down stairs taxing.

Charlotte was agape when prior to our trip to Norway I came home with two smaller versions of the above pull behind bags. For one, how much luggage did we need and for two, how were we going to fit what we needed for a cold wet climate in them.

The trip was remarkable in many ways. The scenery, the myriad of boats to ogle, reconnecting with old friends, cruising to the most northern point in Europe and almost most memorable, managing to pack just what we needed into those little bags. Neither of us has ever been able to accomplish this feat again.

Decades of trial and error have lead me back to what I used on my first foray into Europe, a backpack. Being older middle-class professionals we are fans of Rick Steves. Although not hanging on his every word we recognize the value of his experience. Charlotte bought his backpack but found it too unstructured, so I inherited it. She found another backpack more suited to her taste.

The trick is to keep the weight and bulk down. That means bring less clothes and electronics. The iPhone and Kindle solved the latter problem, but how to get rid of the cotton t-shirts and underwear. And that brings me to the situation I find myself in at present, swinging at anchor in Kilcoursie Bay, Parry Sound, ON.

If I may stray from the topic, this is not the isolated bay we have become accustomed to. We were told that in the thick conifer forest hidden behind the beach are 7000 campers. Their various water toys are lined up along the shore. As the temperature increases the forest people emerge from their lair onto the beach and the days activity began with every imaginable type of watercraft coursing past us. Though crowded by Canadian standards, Chicagoans would die for one such place hang out in.

But back to my lumbago, in an effort to minimize the weight and bulk I have been experimenting with different clothing. And finally to the point of this story, today I find myself completely deck out in plastic: hat, long sun sleeve shirt, t-shirt, briefs and shorts. Today I proclaim myself — Plastic Boy!