i’m traveling with a new bag, a Victorinix tri-fold garment bag. I have to wear a suit at my talk on Monday, and as I’m going to Aspen for a talk in mid-October, and then to Copenhagen for a conference at the end of the month, I decided it was time to get a bag I could put some suits in without having to send them to the cleaners immediately upon landing. (And it’s not like I usually stay in places that have cleaners.) But I also wanted something that would fold up small enough so I could take it as carry-on luggage: if I can avoid checking things, I do.

I looked around at a bunch of bags, and while this wasn’t the most expensive, it was pretty costly; however, I just got a couple small writing gigs that will cover it. And this is the kind of bag that you can pass on to your kids.

Maybe it’s just because it still has that New Bag Smell, but with this cool bag, my iPod, the travel shirt with 500 pockets- I feel like I’ve reached some state of material perfection, a position where It All Works. I can’t imagine needing anything more complicated or expensive than this. I can get another 3000 songs on the iPod, so that should be good for a while. The bag is small but rabidly functional. The shirt is its own small Kingdom of Pockets, and looks good even after you wash it out in the hotel sink with regular soap (I meant to bring a little laundry soap this time, but forgot).

I’m set. And better yet, as long as all this lasts, I’ll stay set.

[To the tune of Nina Simone, “I Shall Be Released,” from the album “The Very Best of Nina Simone: Sugar in My Bowl (1967-1972)”.]

Technorati Tags: travel

I’m in the San Francisco International airport, waiting for a flight to Washington Dulles, and thence to London. I’ve got another short trip for work- arrive Saturday night, rehearse a talk on Sunday, speak on Monday, fly back Tuesday.

Incredible that we can consider a distance of 5000 miles a logistical inconvenience, and translate it into a matter of lost or misplaced hours, when a century ago this would have been a few weeks’ travel- and a century before that, a few months.

The airport is relatively quiet, down at this end: I guess Friday night isn’t a big time to fly. Still, I got to Gate 88, looked around at the seats, and thought what every highly mobile knowledge worker thinks at that instant:

Which seat is close to an unused electrical outlet?

Fortunately it was easy to find.

This is the part of SFO where there’s a coffeeshop, and it’s a Peets, and there’s a kids’ play area where you can learn about the weather by jumping up and down on stuff. So fundamentally I’m in a good space.

The Peets is just a cultural marker, a talisman against the rampant virus of other coffee places (which, truth be told, I’ll probably spend my share of time in when I’m London). I have no need for coffee, because I intend to sleep on this flight. I’ve averaged 4 or 5 hours sleep a night for the last week, and lost six pounds working on this talk. Okay, the latter development I’m actually quite pleased with; still, it’s an indicator of the kind of work I’ve been doing. Besides, I plan to work like a dog on the Dulles-Heathrow leg.

[To the tune of Abbey Lincoln, “Windmills of Your Mind,” from the album “Over the Years”.]

Technorati Tags: travel, work