Airports are NOT for babies.

Continental Airlines British check-in lady:

"Miss, can you put your carry on into that receptacle? There, you see? It is too large. I'm sorry, but it has to be regulation size in order to go onto the plane."

In the meantime, I am starring quizzically at my carry-on, that puke brown sturdy piece of luggage I've been using  as a carry-on for the past 5 years now. It stubbornly rested at the top of the bin due to a handle on the end that was about 1 cm too long.

"What was this lady freaking out about?" Shrugging, I turned back to British woman for my next cue.

"Miss, at least let me weigh your stow luggage. There. It is blah blah blah ounces away from its maximum weight limit. You cannot add anything more to this suitcase, unless you want to pay the fee."

"How much is the fee?"

"$200."

...

" Miss, what is that you're doing? I need to know what you are doing!"

"Well, I'm putting everything from my carry-on into my backpack so that I can throw it away." (It seemed like the obvious solution to me.)

"Well, you cannot re-pack your things in the check-in area. Please move out of the check in area!" (She looked disgusted with me.)

I lifted my heavy suitcase and pulled it away along with my other bags in order to stuff twenty books and dirty underwear into my backpack.

"Miss, I need you to remove your trolley. It is in the way!"

I got up, scooted my luggage cart out of the way as well, and continued the repacking. Ten minutes ticked by before I was able to successfully piece my differently sized books into my seam-popping backpack. I then began regretting hauling my summer reading to England with me. Trying to zip shut my bag, I realized that not everything from my carry-on would fit, even after stuffing some things into my purse. So, I left the items I felt I could part with in the tiny brown suitcase, which I was informed I could discard over at security. Hefting my now 60-something-pounder backpack onto my back, I readjusted the straps so that my arms could squeeze through. I had transformed into Quasimodo's first cousin.  

With hunchback and all, I advanced toward the check-in counter yet for a second attempt. And to my delight and surprise, I noticed the cheeky check-in attendant that had sent me on this frantic repacking adventure was now nowhere to be seen. In fact, I was able to quickly slip something into the big suitcase, weigh it, and see it go down the belt with no hassle. Then while I was walking towards security, a light bulb went on. And that is when the redistributing began. This time it only took about 2 minutes.

With carry-on re-situated and backpack relieved, I floated through security without a word. Amazingly the same thing happened as I boarded the plane. And not one soul blinked an eye when I slid my carry-on into the overhead compartment.

As I effortlessly shut it, I heard a satisfying "click". 

I smiled the entire 9 hour ride home.