I Have A Secret
A deep, dark and shameful secret. I possess a manbag or as I like to refer to it - a manly bag. Mary prefers the former descriptor. Then she cackles and asks if I'm using skin moisturizers or if I'd like a pedicure. My testosterone levels plummet just thinking about it.
So why the manbag? Well, for years I lofted around a masculine backpack to carry all the stuff one needs while exploring exotic locations like
I kind of see her point. It annoys her that I'm always bumping into people with the pack since I can't really see behind me. I thought about putting on a flasher with the back-up beeper sound that forklifts use, but Mary thought this might be even more annoying than occasionally slamming into strangers' foreheads with the heavily laden bag. So I went online some time ago and searched for the perfect messenger bag, which is completely different from a man purse.
Basically, I wanted something that was fairly small and compact with lots and lots of pockets, because I'm the kind of man that believes that there's nothing that can't be improved with the addition of more pockets. Shirts, pants, cars, spacesuits - the more pockets the better. I wanted a single shoulder strap because I usually like hanging the bag from one shoulder, but long enough so I could sling it across my body sideways when I needed both hands free to handle a foot long Coney with extra chili. And a beer. If you're me, this situation comes up more often than you'd think.
So after wandering up and down the virtual aisles at Ebags, I finally found something I thought might meet the stringent requirements I drew up in my specifications for purchase. The Internet is a restless beast though and although my purchase was less than a year ago, alas the specific model I bought is now just a dusty relic and lost in the mists of time. Behold instead the Eagle Creek Vagabond Bag (a close relative)! It is magnificent in its extreme pocketness. The strap is formed of exotic space age materials that ensure a comfortable fit over one's shoulder as well as functioning as an emergency lashing to bind yourself to a handy tree whenever caught in a Force Five hurricane. This actually doesn't occur all that often and I'm pretty much making up the lashing to a tree bit. I wouldn't try this at home or on vacation. But if you do feel like trying it, drop me a line if you survive and tell me how it worked out for you.
The bag has a perfectly magnificent plethora of pockets, more pockets then even ten men could need. There are snaps and zippers galore and all in a package that's considerably smaller and lighter than my old backpacks. I got this just before the round the world trip and used it extensively since then and I can say that it's performed up to my exacting standards in every respect. Sure, sometimes I might spend twenty or so minutes trying to find which pocket I put the Tums in, but I figure another six or seven months and I'll be able to remember which pockets contain which items, unless the creeping effects of old age catch up with me first.
