An ode to my bag

My most loyal companion on this trip is a shoulder bag that I received the first week I started at the magazine when some Utah ski public relations folks paid a visit. It's the type of thing we would have rejected as a gift at the paper, but at the magazine, well, different rules apply for such things. I'm kind of glad I kept it. It is phenomenal how much paperwork I can hold in there in addition to precious snacks from Costco that Niki packed me for those moments when I get tired of eating special donkey meat pot and all the other lovely delicacies here. The paperwork I bring are photocopies of maps of every conceivable place I might visit on this trip, in addition to the requisite passport and hotel information that I feel I should probably have at all times.

But perhaps its biggest benefit is the imagery of a ski mountain on the side that is a huge relief while I'm taking in that off, noxious smell that is everywhere here. Instead of trying to process exactly how many hours of my life are being reduced for each 10 minutes of dank subway air I breathe, I can think of cool mountains and taking in a lungfull of that stuff instead. So, thank you Ski Utah bag.