The Empty Suitcase

Is there anything in the world more mocking than the open, empty suitcase? You stand before it clutching your carefully prepared packing list like a sword of power and are promptly reduced to a quivering mass of insecurity and indecision. All the time spent researching weather patterns, details of shore excursions, professionally-prepared packing guidelines amount to nothing when staring into the Great Nothingness.

You roust the suitcase from its slumber and, with great (perhaps over-) confidence, you fling it open. The energy of empowerment that you have built over the preceding few days fills you to the point where you practically glow with capability. Every eventuality predicted, evaluated and managed. All necessary items carefully inventoried. Outfits have been planned to masterfully match the weather and planned occasions. Multitasking is the name of the game and with efficiency that would be envied by the most stereotypical Swiss, a complete cruise vacation has been designed to fit into a single rolling carryon and a shoulder pack.

Yeah, right.

Suddenly the dark power of the empty suitcase sends its soul-draining tendrils through your skin and into your spine. You become convinced that you have coincidentally forgotten everything and overplanned. All of your carefully-coordinated outfits are inappropriate and unflattering, to boot. You won't be sufficiently warm; you are going to be too hot. Nothing is fashionable. It is all too casual. It is all too dressy. Is that bra torn? What if this happens? What if that happens? It's Alaska - it could snow. Its southern Alaska - it will rain. The crowd will be old. The boat will be filled with youthful energy.

I have nothing to wear.