Baggage Claim A Novel

Prologue Being a flight attendant for the last thirteen years, and looking for Mr. Right for almost as long, there are two things I know a lot about: men and baggage. Given the amount of time and travel spent with both, I've come to the conclusion that there are five kinds of men, like there are five kinds of baggage.First, there's the overnight bag kind of man. Great for the pick-up-and-go kind of girl. Spontaneous. Alive. Convenient. Never makes a plan because he never has a plan and expects you to drop whatever your plans are at a moment's notice. Most of the time you do, because you can always count on having a good time (or at the very least, some good sex). Problem is, Overnight Bag Man is not very practical. Eventually you're going to need more room for the stuff you've picked up along the way. You'll want him to handle more, but he can't -- even if he wants to -- because he simply doesn't have the capacity.Then there's the garment bag kind of man. He's accustomed to the finer things in life. Handsome. Articulate. Well groomed. Went to the best schools, eats at the fanciest restaurants, and drives only European cars. Garment Bag Man often hangs framed pictures, articles, and certificates around his house that highlight his favorite person: himself. When it rains, he runs inside for cover. He sleeps with a scarf, and spends more time in the mirror primping than you do. Though Garment Bag Man is extremely fashionable, he isn't too sturdy. He can't cope with the hard knocks, the potholes, or the crash landings that life inevitably brings. At the first sign of wear, or the first rip or tear, Garment Bag Man falls completely apart.Next is the executive bag kind of man. Briefcase Man. He's the hard-edged, box-shaped piece of luggage that you could drop from a ten-story building and it wouldn't break. Structured. Firm. The kind of man that is unwavering. Willing to fight for or even die for what he believes in. The only problem with Briefcase Man is that he can only fit what he can fit. You must conform to him. He cannot and will not conform to you. It's either his way or the highway, and if it's the highway you chose, he is more than gentlemanly enough to drop you off at the nearest on-ramp.There's also the classic duffel bag kind of man. Loose fitting. Unstructured. Unfocused and usually arrives unannounced. Not part of the original set, but picked up along the way as needed. Willing to do whatever, whenever, and to whomever as long as it leads him to that which he seeks. Duffel Bag Man will always try to fit more into his schedule than is humanly possible. He thinks he has more game than Michael Jordan, Emmitt Smith, and Barry Bonds put together, and that his game can get him anything he wants and take him anywhere he desires. Because he wasn't part of the original set in the first place, he is easily replaced and quickly forgotten.And last is the trunk kind of man. Rugged. Weather-proof. Well traveled. A self-made man. The kind of man that's been through a lot and has seen a lot. Carries a lot of stuff, a lot of history: an ex-wife, a dead wife, or a tribe of spoiled and dependent children. Usually older and worn but never tired or torn. An international kind of man. Listens to a lot of jazz. Watches very little television. Always smells good. A self-made man who marches to the beat of his own drum and has little interest in new band members wishing to play a tune of their ownNow, the perfect man is like the perfect set of luggage -- strong, stylish, durable, and dependable. Adjustable, fit to travel, and fit to suit whatever the need at whatever the time. Full of compartments. So many that just when you think you've figured him out, and you've seen all there is to see, he surprises you with a hidden nook or a forbidden cranny.Unfortunately, I haven't quite managed to find the perfect set of luggage or the perfect man. Only individual pieces. And not even matching onTalbert, David E. is the author of 'Baggage Claim A Novel' with ISBN 9780743247184 and ISBN 0743247183.