Excuse me ma'am....ummmm, your panties???

Well that's where the story ends (or begins depending on your perspective). Of course I can't just leave that statement out there without any explanation. So what had happened was..........

I always overpack. ALWAYS. I can't help it. I need options. So instead of packing outfits and sticking with the plan, I pack the highlights of my wardrobe for the season so I can't say "damn, I wish I would have brought blah blah blah because it would look soooo cute with yadda yadda yadda". What complicated the matter further was that I didn't get a chance to do laundry before I left. But my sister has a washer and dryer at her place in Florida. (Yes, I spent by "break from the world" in the hotbed of American debauchery well at least on the east coast- Miami ). So I grab a plastic bag, stuff my dirty clothes in it, and pack said bag inside my suitcase.

Now, since the airlines are now in the business of nickel and diming its customers (shit, they'll take pennies too), most have some type of paying for checked bags policy. Delta's policy your first bag is free if its under 50lbs. That's a whole lot of luggage for most people but for moi? Lets just say if that were an Olympic event the US wouldn't even send my ass to the trials. I have no concept of measurement estimates. NONE. So basically, the airline execs salivate and get hard-ons when they see my name on the airline's travel manifesto. But I digress. I arrive at Laguardia and a skycap takes my bag from the curb. Papi chulo drops my bag on the scale and informs me that my bag is 18 pounds overweight. "Mami, can you take anything out the bag? I don't want to charge you $80 to check it." Excuse me??? Eighty dollars. On top of the what I paid to sit my ass on the plane?!
"Welll, " I respond. "I have a bag of ummmmm clothes in there but I can't take that on the plane."
"Lemme see."
So I unzip the top of the bag and begin to tug at the huge, bright yellow Ikea bag. Why did I pick that damn bag? Why couldn't I pick a more chic plastic bag to hold my currently un-chic garments?

Of course once I take this ginormous sunshine yellow bag with royal blue lettering splattered across the side out of the bag, papi chulo skycap is willing to let me check my bag without paying the overage fee.
"Are you surrrrrre I can carry this on the plane?"
"Yeah mami, you good. That will be $3 for curbside check in."
Do you take pennies, papi? Of course you do!

I walk away from curbside check-in. I look down at my chocolate brown walking shorts, tan top, and natural colored espadrille wedges. Cute. Chocolate brown suede Coach carry-on bag. Cute. Ginormous yellow bag filled with dirty clothes. Not cute. I take a deep breath, hear Tim Gunn from Project Runway in my head (Make it work."), and stroll to airport security. I get through security with no problem. I even stop at Starbucks to fuel my addiction before boarding the plane.

Okay so the Ikea bag isn't cute but damnit I'm going on vacay. This is the break I need. Some sun. Some fun. Maybe even a little debauchery. I board the plane. Stow my bag in the overhead compartment and begin my mental relaxation. I was fortunate enough to pick a window seat with no middle passenger so I and the gentleman in the aisle seat had room to stretch out.

"We are taxi-ing to the gate. The weather in Fort Lauderdale is currently 88 degrees with a few passing clouds. The weather here should be great. Thank you for flying with Delta."
Ahhhhhh, I made it. I already feel the humid breeze blowing through my straight hair (of course not for long). The drinks, the nightlife, the fun with my sisters are all calling my name as I pull my bags down from the overhead compartment. I'm sailing on the joy of what this week will bring when I hear a "Excuse me ma'am...ummmmmmm, your panties?" Scratch the needle across the record. I turn around and there they were. My chartreuse lace Vicky Secret thong, dangling from the overhead compartment.

Who knew a black woman could turn beet red?! "Ohhh shit!!" I laugh and snatch them down from their airplane display. Stuff them BACK into the Ikea bag and saunter right off the plane. What else was I gonna do??? Luckily there weren't too many passengers still on the plane as I was sitting in the pre-Montgomery Bus Boycott section.

First stop on the vacay? The Mall. The butterfly needs another carry-on. With a zipper.