Digesting New York, Part 2 (An inauspicious start, or the tragedy of the toiletries)

This could be considered a prologue, since it happened before I actually got to NYC, and there's no entry for it, even abbreviated, in my journal. However, it affected my trip . . .

Thursday, March 20th. I went to work as usual in the morning, but slipped out unnoticed (except by Sandi, who knew I was going anyway) an hour early. The plan was to go home and finish packing. Then we'd load my luggage into the truck, put the dogs in the back, and John and I would head down to Sausalito and then San Francisco. We'd spend the night at the Ocean Park, our favorite dog-friendly motel, and in the morning John would drop me off at the airport.

This was a new plan, a variation on the original which had John dropping me off in Sausalito to spend the night with my parents; in the morning I would have taken a cab or shuttle to SFO. The change in plan required a change in my packing arrangements, or at least I thought it did, and thereby hangs the above-mentioned tragedy.

This was the first time I'd flown since the most recent tightening of TSA regulations for carry-on luggage. I wasn't entirely clear about what the new regulations were, but I knew that they involved the contents of bottles and tubes, so I resolved to put most of my cosmetic and bathing gear into my giant purple duffel bag, which would be checked. Since I'd be staying with my parents, the duffel bag would accompany me onto the houseboat Thursday, and I'd have easy access to any toilet articles I might need that night or the next morning.

Now that we were staying at the Ocean Park, though, it seemed silly to drag all my luggage out of the truck Thursday night only to have to heave it back in again Friday morning. Much more sensible just to bring in the things I absolutely needed - my smallest carry-on bag, which had my nightgown and a change of clothes, and another bag with my essential toilet articles - skin-care stuff, toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, perfume, lipstick, and mascara. So I fished those items out of the giant purple duffel bag and placed them in a white Macy's shopping bag, along with my toothbrush, tweezers, and dental floss. The toothbrush, etc. didn't need to be kept separate, but it seemed handier to put them in with the rest. My idea, and I still think it was a good one, was to bring the white bag into the motel room along with my little carry-on, and then plop it back into the big purple duffel in the morning. It was, as I say, a good plan, but its success hinged on one key element - the white bag had to be put into the truck before we left.

I think you can see where this is going.

At any rate, the dogs were loaded into the back of the truck, the luggage was loaded into the back seat, and off we headed down 101. We stopped at the dog park in Sausalito to let Kodi and Duffy have a little exercise, etc., and then went over to the houseboat to pick my parents up for dinner. We all enjoyed an excellent meal at the Buckeye - I can't remember what I ate, but I do remember drinking a lovely mojito - and then John and I brought the dogs back to the dog park for a bit more exercise, etc. It's an excellent dog park, by the way - check it out if you and your beasts are ever in the neighborhood and need a break.

We checked into the Ocean Park at around 10:30. We love this place - it's comfortable, fairly inexpensive, pretty quiet unless you get a street front room, and, of course dog-friendly. It's just a couple of blocks away from Ocean Beach, and a short drive to Fort Funston - the people at the front desk will give you directions. It's also the oldest motel in San Francisco, and has a cool Art-Deco exterior, although the decor for the room interiors is more eclectic.

So we checked in, and brought in what we needed: the dogs, the dogs' luggage (a bag with food, dishes, leashes, and small plastic baggies for dogfeather disposal,) John's overnight bag, my smallest carry-on, and . . . the white bag? The white bag! Where was the white bag?

I think you know where the white bag was. I figured it out too, after a while. And there was nothing to be done about it except call myself a fool, which wasn't much help in the long run. A few blocks up Sloat there's a shopping center with an Albertson's that stays open fairly late, so we went up there, and I got a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, dental floss, face soap, and lip balm - the absolute bare necessities, as I saw it, for travel to a first-world location like New York. Then we went back to the motel room, where I brushed and flossed my teeth, washed my face, called myself some more names, and went to bed.

Ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit in calling this a tragedy. As John pointed out, it wasn't as if I'd lost my wallet or my walking shoes or something really vital. Everything I'd left behind was easily replaceable, at least in a general sense. But the whole thing threw me off my stride and out of my comfort zone. I wanted my skin cream, my lipstick, my perfume, not some unknown and possibly inferior drug-store substitute.

On the other hand, it provided an excellent excuse for visiting Sephora . . . but I'm getting aheand of myself; that belongs in a future installment.