|
The
ancient art of weight gain
"Does
my bum (bag) look big in this?"
by
Pat Morrissey
Reproduced
from in focus 66 (October
1999)
As
I sit here on a cold winter's Sunday afternoon, watching tourists
clustered in purpling clumps on Southwark Bridge, and with
the Buena Vista Social Club giving it large portions of Cuba's
finest in the background, and (of course) a Rowlands-strength
daiquiri to hand, it seems only natural to be thinking ahead
to whatever dive trips I'll be going on later this year. Ah,
the innocent pleasures of anticipation - I can almost smell
the sea, taste the salt ... and, unfortunately, I can also
make out the features of some grim lunatic on a Check-In desk,
assuring me that my bags are far in excess of the allotted
allowances, that it doesn't matter who I've got a letter of
authority from, and that either I dump the camera gear or
turn round and head home under leaden skies.
You
recognize the scenario, I'm sure. Isn't it great? Tropical
paradises await our dollar-heavy tread, unsuspecting coral-dwellers
think that birth-reproduction-heath is all there is to life,
foolishly unaware of the joys of Sea & Sea's latest lines
in illumination that promise to make a Very light look dim;
and this dweeb in an over-tight short-sleeved shirt is holding
up the entire proceedings!
Well,
for what it's worth, here are a few random thoughts on invisible
weight gain from one who has been there, done that, bought
the T shirt - and managed to get the whole lot home again.
(For the sake of convenience, and in order to avoid unhappy
litigious experiences, I shall use two near-myth ical characters
from my own childhood).
1. JANET & JOHN PREPARE FOR, THE BIG TRIP
Like
so many other things in life, preparation is the key to getting
more than your fair share in the luggage allowance lottery.
Nothing makes you stand out more in the eyes of authority
than being the ones hastily trying to pack and repack whilst
in the check-in queue, or having a Hollywood-sized row over
where "the bloody batteries are". It pays to think
ahead. If you have a dive buddy, this is a GOOD THING, because
you can share the really excessively heavy items between you,
if you have a dive buddy who is not of the photographer variety,
this is a VERY GOOD THING. (Should said buddy be of the female
persuasion, she'll also have access to The Handbag Manoeuvre,
of which more later). It should hardly need to be stressed
that the order to pack gear in is: camera stuff, dive gear,
then any clothes that will fit round these delicate items
as padding. At least one week prior to departure, therefore,
have all bags packed but not locked; after all, this is the
time to swap things about a bit and play with the bathroom
scales. Now weigh the assembled bags, and see by how much
you exceed your allowance.
You
now know the gross poundage that you must somehow still find
a way of getting post the good folk at Check-In.
Golden
Rule #1: now is the time to buy an extra large bum-bag,
to be used solely for the transport of disposable batteries,
if the worst happens, (and you have to jettison something,
you can scrap the bum-bog and hope to get new batteries in
the Duty Free area beyond Check-In.
Golden
Rule #2: each member of the team ought to be dressed as
if expecting to carry all excess weight items on their own
person. (This Rule also holds true even if you are travelling
solo). In practice, this will virtually never happen, but
it pays to think of the worst possible scenario and act accordingly.
How might this work? I hear you ask...
2.
JANET & JOHN HEAD TOWARDS CHECK IN.
John
has invested in an old waxed Barbour-type jacket, these are
excellent because of the huge 'poachers pockets' inside each
half of the front lining. Moreover, an old jacket attracts
less attention than a brand new one, which smells strong enough
to make your eyes water and will attract attention - A BAD
THING.
Golden
Rule #3:
no matter if the sun is splitting the stones outside the British
airport (another unlikely eventuality), John keeps the jacket
on, in an emergency he can get a Nikon f4 body inside each
inner pocket, at least 2 lenses in each outer pocket, and
- if push comes to shove - he can load the areas between the
lining and the outer coat with rolls of film. John's coat
also hides the fact that he is wearing one of those rather
naff photographers' sleeveless efforts, which are really just
15 or 20 pockets stitched together into a jerkin formation.
Here again, the idea is to be able, in a pinch, to wear all
items of excess photographic nature on the person for long
enough to get checked in.
A
word of warning here: this practice can be taken to excess,
and must be guarded against. It's no use appearing cool and
capable whilst checking in, only to keel over in a dead faint
within two meters of the afore-mentioned dweeb; it draws unwanted
attention. I have also seen otherwise intelligent professionals
- you know who you are, Sanchez-Capuchino - subsume so much
photographic hardware into a camouflage jacket that he looked
like one of the more physically-deformed X Men of Marvel Comics
fame. This is OK over a short period, but will lead invariably
to injury in later life if you continue to insist to enquirers
that you really are shaped like that, that it's not at all
heavy, and then commence drinking cocktails in Singapore's
classy airport lounges to deaden the pain. You have been warned.
Janet
too has dispensed with over-much in the ways of haute couture.
In this instance, Madam is sporting a (suitably-proportioned)
burn-bag, a light jacket with as many pockets as appears de
la tnode, and perhaps most crucially a handbag. Now, even
a weak and pathetic woman that's to say, almost any jungle-fit,
lean female fighting machine can usually carry I or 2 Nikonos
V bodies in a handbag. Maybe a lens and a viewfinder, too
- what do I know? All I'm suggesting is that, from the humble
male point of view, women who can normally cart a stone or
so of ointments, car keys, containers of little things that
rattle when shaken and a travel iron about in a handbag on
a normal day should have little trouble in hoiking a few photographic
bits and bobs about for a matter of half-an-hour or so until
through Check-In.
Picture
the scene, then: our intrepid travellers have spent some little
in preparing for the ordeal of checking-in, and have packed
and dressed accordingly. What could possibly go wrong now,
then? Surely they've beaten The System, and are practically
home free? Not so, gentle reader, and next time we shall examine
the sacred mysteries known as Hand Luggage, I've Never Met
This Person Before In My Life, Making A Good Impression and
Troubleshooting.
Yours
in the bar, Pat Morrissey
|
