What does that checked bag tell the world? You’re ready for about any misadventure

I’m a chronic overpacker. I have no shame in admitting this because overpacking has made me a savior on more than one vacation. Extra shoelaces? I’ve got that covered. First-aid tape? No problem. Aloe vera for a sunburn? You’ve come to the right suitcase. Would you like that in a cream or a gel?

The only problem my overpacking creates is that it requires a suitcase that has been referred to as a “travel coffin” and elicits comments from strangers in elevators. The one heard most often is if “there’s a dead body in there?”

All this will soon be changing because I’m being forced to give up my “travel coffin” for a suitcase that fits in the overhead bin of a plane. For someone who always checks her bag, the thought of downsizing to a carry-on is the stuff of nightmares.

But alas, I have no choice. My husband and I are taking a vacation where we will be changing locales a lot, and I require a suitcase that doesn’t result in needing a wrist brace and two Advil to heave it to and fro.

To begin my journey of embracing a carry-on bag lifestyle, I did loads of research and I’m going to make a bold statement and say the “research” is a litany of lies so abundant there’s not enough carry-on luggage in North America to house the falsehoods.

Let’s begin with packing cubes. According to travel “experts,” packing cubes can enable you to fit “twice as much” stuff in your carry-on. This is complete fiction. If there were truth in advertising, packing cubes should be renamed the “wrinkle maker.”

This is because all a packing cube does is smoosh your belongings and yet the wee bit of space freed up from the smooshing isn’t enough to compensate for what your clothes will look like after they’re freed from captivity.

Next up are the TSA approved travel containers and kits you can buy to house your skin care, shampoo etc. The problem I have with these are that most of them cost more than the skin care I need to pack.

Then there’s the carry-on suitcase. In my quest to find one that would hold the most stuff, I was most intrigued with the compression luggage. (Yes, I reluctantly decided I needed to get on “team smoosh.”)

But yet again I was shocked by the price. Apparently smooshing doesn’t come cheap. Freaked out by the cost of these bags I abandoned the Internet and set off to do some in-person shopping.

It didn’t go well because I was suitcase shamed.

I first confided to the salesperson that I was a carry-on newbie. When I proceeded to talk lovingly about my suitcase coffin like I was in a romantic relationship with a piece of luggage, I didn’t really blame the woman for backing away.

What I didn’t expect, though, was being given some major attitude about being a checked bag loyalist. Apparently checking your bag is a sign that you’re, well, a loser. I was also informed that you can “judge the quality of a person by the size of their bag.” A carry on signifies that you’re a “seasoned traveler with a honed packing sensibility.”

Really? Well, let me tell you what a checked bag is telling the world. It’s that you’re ready for any of life’s surprises. Not to toot my own horn but the ice pack and compression ankle brace I packed back in 2010 literally saved a Disney vacation. So, good luck topping that, carry-on enthusiast.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.