I picture the English language like a huge suitcase and it's packed with all kinds of unnecessary and confusing words. Someone needs to go through that suitcase, throw a bunch of stuff out and do some repacking.
English leads to all kinds of misunderstandings.
I was on my way to Vegas with a friend and he said, "You carry around a lot of baggage, don't you!"
"You mean MY luggage?" It was on wheels so I was confused. All I actually carried was my passport.
One suitcase seemed reasonable to me. I'm a pretty light packer, even for a man. Couple of white t-shirts, which have never felt the warm embrace of an iron, shorts, socks, underwear, toothbrush, deodorant – the basics. It all fits into a plastic grocery bag but I don't want to look like a terrorist so I stick it in a tiny suitcase.
I figured the baggage, or luggage, comment was off the mark. He continued. "You gotta lose some of that baggage if we're gonna get along. You're an adult now. Time to grow up."
What the hell? Was he worried I would outshine him on the strip in my crumpled t-shirt and knee-high gym socks? Maybe he needed to grow up.
On my last trip the airline lost my baggage. Ugh, what a disaster. My only t-shirt was getting seriously wrinkly, even for me. It looked like Dog the Bounty Hunter, if he were a t-shirt. Smelled like it too. I guess my friend was suggesting that when the airline found my baggage and returned it to me, I should have refused it. But why?
Then it hit me. As we approached Customs, I remembered that when people use the word "baggage", they mean emotional baggage. What a dolt I was.
It never really occurred to me that I have a lot of baggage from my childhood. Maybe this was a good time to unload it all.
I was deep in thought about this when I got an even bigger shock. The Customs official, who I've never met before, also knew about my excess baggage.
"Did you pack this baggage yourself?", he asked.
I hesitated. Better not lie. That's a crime. Is this guy a trained therapist?
"No, my parents did while I was a kid. I just carry it around with me. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had so much."
"Your parents? Open it, please."
I was aghast. I wasn't ready to confront my childhood issues, and certainly not in front of a stranger in an airport, across from a Wimpy's burger joint. I at least needed some kind of conversion therapy, or maybe one of those Luminosity tests that transform people into better humans.
"Could we do this later? Maybe I can make an appointment with a doctor?"
"Are you hiding something?", he asked.
"Yes. Yes I am. My parents fought all the time. Mom threw dad's clothes out the window one time. "GET OUT OF THE HOUSE", she screamed. I was in the middle of it all. I got so angry. I'm so sorry. I've carried it around for so long. I didn't mean to bring it here."
He opened my tiny suitcase and threw a quick glance. "You can go. And get some help, will ya?"
"Yes. Yes I will. Thank you sir. It's time to unpack my baggage."
