I went on a month-long excavation in Mongolia around 8 years ago, and 2 days before I was supposed to fly home I had gone to dinner where they accidentally ran my credit card for $100 more than they meant to. The compromise was to hand me change in the local currency. So the next day I spend all that money on souvenirs for my family.
At the airport I find out my bag is overweight.
The check-in lady doesnāt know English. I donāt know Mongolian.
I open my suitcase. I pull out my camping blanket. I pull out my body pillow (shaped like a 5-foot-long mahi mahi). I am still over the weight limit.
Through a translation app she suggests moving any textbooks into my carry-on.
I donāt have any books but I shuffle things around. I am still over the weight limit.
I reach into my bag. Pull out my tool kit with all my archaeology things. Pull out a hammer. Place it on the check in counter.
She canāt stop laughing at my Mary Poppins-like clown car of a suitcase.
Everything goes back into the bag except the hammer and the blanket. I am finally under the weight limit.
I fold the blanket and keep it in my arms. I slide the hammer over to her and smile. She starts laughing again, but takes my bag and waves me through.
I think about her sometimes, and wonder if she still thinks about the crazy American woman who brought a giant fish pillow and a hammer on vacation.