My Life Post Cleanse

It has been almost a month since participating in a juice cleanse with my wife (Pre, Day 1, Day 2, and Day 3).

My participation was reluctant at best. Mostly, I did not want to say no, and I was curious to see if I could do it, as well as experience the side effects it would have on my body.

During the cleanse, the effects were not exciting. I felt tired and irritable. My brain definitely wasn’t operating at peak performance, and my workouts were much less intense.

I also missed eating solid foods.

Things weren’t all bad though. A juice every two hours meant I wasn’t actually hungry, which I expected to be a major problem. On the immediate plus side, I lost 12 pounds in 3 days.

Now, as I look back 18 days post-cleanse, I can say there have definitely been some lasting effects.

This, of course, means admitting my wife was right. The cleanse has changed the way I live and eat.

Some of the side effects were reinforcers of habits I used to have when I was a healthier person.

The three days of having a juice every two hours reminded me of the importance of eating small meals throughout the day, rather than large meals infrequently. This keeps the body’s metabolism going and helps avoid the crash following a big meal. For the most part, I have been able to stick with this since the cleanse.

The difficulty, as always for me, comes at dinner time. Not only trying not to over eat at meal time, but to avoid snack afterwards.

The biggest shock for me has been the removal of two major indulgences: sugar & salt.

I have not bought a bag of candy since the cleanse. I haven’t even really had the urge. I have bought more fruit, and while on the road, I usually grab a container of raisins if I do have a craving for something sweet. The sugar carbs are there, but way better than the processed sugar found in my usual go-to: Twizzlers and jelly beans.

I have even cut back on the amount of sugar I put in my coffee. I haven’t exactly cut it in half, but it is close. The biggest change is being more precise in monitoring how much sugar I am using. I no longer reach for the sugar canister and dump in a few seconds worth of sugar. Instead, I go for the packets and am more attentive to the number of packets I use.

As for salt, I still eat it. Sodium is in most foods. But, I have not been adding it to my food. I eat it as it comes, without the additional shakes I had been adding.

I may even have to find a new go-to adult beverage. The first, and only, dirty martini I had since the cleanse felt like eating a spoonful of salt.

It is amazing to me how effective a three-day cleanse has been in changing my habits for the better.

Kudos wifey.

This too may pass, but it seems to be sticking with me so far.

Cash Money Panic

I recently sold to a woman, let’s call her Cash Money, who wanted to pay cash for her deposit. I left her house with close to nine thousand dollars in my pocket.

Honestly, this was a pretty crappy area. Real estate agents would most likely call this an “up and coming” area. I was pretty shocked to even be making the sale.

She also had two “handyman” guys doing work on the house while I was there. These guys definitely did not seem legit. Their work truck was a Nissan Versa hatchback.

The entire time I was processing the paperwork for the sale, I had my head on a swivel. When would these guys take this money and run? At some point, I am going to be robbed.

Are these 100 dollar bills real?

What is the end game here? Will Cash Money have these guys rob me and say she paid me, and I took off with the money?

I waited for the shoe to drop. I walked out to my car. Maybe it would happen now.

I started to drive away. Would the Versa follow me?

It wouldn’t.

Maybe there was another person involved in this elaborate scheme to rob me and pretend I took off with her money. I continued to check my mirrors for suspects.

I worked my next two appointments, constantly distracted by the amount of money sitting inside my rental car. Is this a safe neighborhood? Would someone break into my car and find where I hid this woman’s cash? Why did she have to pay me cash?

When I left the appointment immediately following her sale, I had three voicemails. Apparently, I was not the only one in panic mode.

Cash Money’s son had not received my email with the receipt for the sale. He also chewed her out for giving me (a complete and total stranger) cash without any paper receipt. We process everything electronically and Cash Money did not want anything emailed to her because she is not tech-savvy.

She was quite a mess. She actually drove to our retail partner and proceeded to have a panic attack with one of the sales managers at her location. I know this because after returning her three voicemails and leaving her a voicemail (because she, of course, did not answer her phone) to reassure her everything was on the up-and-up, I answered a call from an unknown number.

It was the sales manager. Both he and I reassured her I was not running off with her money to live out my remaining years in the lap of luxury, funded by just under $9,000.

Flustered and unsure, the woman finally left the store. She would follow up tomorrow to be sure the payment was processed.

Ten minutes later, Cash Money texted me. Her son had received the email with her contract and receipt.

I guess tech skills (or the lack thereof) run in the family.

The Wasp

The part of sales, and life in general, I struggle to build a callous for is being told “No.”

I have never liked hearing No. Who does?

At the same time, I have no problem using it and saying it to others. I have a strong command of the word, just don’t put me on the receiving side.

No and I have a very push and pull relationship. It is all give and no take.

With this new sales career, the annoyance of a No has only grown.

It should not define my day, but it does.

A few days ago though, I made a seamless and easy sale. This gentleman knew what he wanted and what he was willing to pay. We came to an agreement quickly. In fact, at the end of the call, after 90-minutes, he even said, “Man, we did good, time-wise.”

“We sure did.”

The only downside of this call: I got stung by a wasp while we were surveying the outside of his home.

This wasp landed on my shoulder and stung me through my shirt. Then, it flew away before I could exact my revenge. Devastating.

“Did he get you?” Asks the 6’4” Marine.

“Yeah, he got me. It’s all good though.” Sure, you are a trained killer, but I’m tough too. Wasps sting me, and I just shrug it off. No. Big. Deal.

It’s just a wasp that stung me through my shirt, and my shoulder is on fire. It’s also 90 degrees and blazing sunny right now.

It’s all good. I’m going to increase my sweat production and pretend my shoulder didn’t just get one of those 4-prong tetanus shots. The charley-horse shot. I definitely do not want to scream obscenities right now.

Let’s continue to talk casually while my shoulder turns into a ball of flames.

Oh, yeah, I am definitely paying attention to you and your needs right now.

Oh, you are spraying the four wasp’s nests and killing them now while I am here. That is great news and perfect timing. You would not want to kill those wasp’s nests before someone was stung. Wait to see if the wasps are aggressive. Then, make the decision to kill them or keep them as pets.

As I drove away, I couldn't help but realize how much I love a Yes and hate a No. If I had to be stung by a wasp four times a day to close each of my appointments, it would be a no brainer for me.

Bring on the wasps.

Pickles McGee

When you go into people’s homes for a living, you get to see a lot of interesting things. Billy’s house looked like one of a hoarder. In fact, a lot of people’s homes look this way, which explains the popularity of those television shows.

I wonder what percentage of hoarders see those shows and realize they are watching a version of themselves?

I walked through Billy’s front door, and there were things piled everywhere in the living room. It looked like they had done a month’s worth of grocery shopping and just dumped it all in the middle of the house in stacks and piles.

“Sorry about the mess. We are about to go on vacation and these are supplies for the RV.”

Okay. Billy is not a hoarder. These are just vacation supplies.

Then, we hit the two car garage. There were narrow walkways around the garage with items piled 6ft high or higher. At times, we could not see each other, as we were on different sides of the garage.

Billy makes no apologies for the state of his garage, not that he needed to, but he is definitely back to semi-hoarder status.

While navigating the stacks, I notice a refrigerator, and, since it is located in the center of the garage and not along a wall, I ask if it works.

“Oh yeah. My wife loves pickling. It is filled with jars of homemade pickled cucumbers. She makes a sweet and spicy mix with jalapeños. Do you like pickles?”

“Love them. I do not do any pickling myself, but I always keep them in the house. In fact, I usually get that huge jar filled with deli-size pickles.”

“Well, here you go,” says Billy, as he hands me a large mason jar filled with pickles. “This fridge is filled with these things. Hope you like them.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I am sure I will.”

As I toured the property with Billy, and gathered all of the information I needed for the job, he proceeded to tell me about the lifted Polaris in his backyard, which cost him close to $30,000 after he put the lift kit, accessories, and giant tires on it over the years.

We discussed his 45’ RV, his trailers, and the four cars, which were sitting in his driveway.

One of those four cars was a fully restored Chevy Nova. He had paid $25,000 to have it restored years ago. Since then, it has just been sitting in his driveway deteriorating in the salt air. They barely even drive it except to start it and drive it up and down his cul de sac. It’s a shame he doesn’t have room in his two car garage.

Another was a Mercedes Smart Car, which seemed completely out of character Billy, but he explained his wife wanted it, and they put it on the trailer to tow it behind the RV when they do not bring the Polaris.

As Billy rattled off all these high dollar items on which he spent tens of thousands of dollars, I was feeling pretty confident about the sale.

By the end of our nearly two hour visit, when it came time to put pen to paper, Billy said his wife was not home, and he could not make the decision without consulting her.

I left, having made no money at all.

However, I did have my homemade jalapeño sweet and spicy pickles in hand. And if a jar of pickles from a strange semi-hoarder isn’t why I switched careers and got into sales, I’m not sure what is.

In the end, Billy and his wife eventually decided to make a purchase a few days later. When I arrived in the evening at around 7:00 p.m. to have him sign the paperwork, I was greeted with another jar of pickles, which I gladly accepted.

As we signed the paperwork and talked, Billy refreshed his beverage in the kitchen, and I realized those cucumbers were not the only pickling happening in the house. Billy’s wife pickled the cucumbers while he pickled his liver.

Man’s Best Friend

I almost cried when I made my first sale.

It wasn’t the rush of the sale, the dollar bills I envisioned filling my bank account, or the fact of it being the first yes I heard in a bucket of no’s over the previous three days.

It was the dogs.

As usual, this is my wife’s fault.

Before I met my wife, I was so good at keeping feelings at arm's length. Then, she moved in with me and brought her dog along - a 10-year-old Basset Hound named George.

This was a super-sneaky move because her dog lived with her mom before she moved in with me. I didn't even know she had a dog when we started dating.

In fact, she openly told me she had two cats (a red flag that I ignored) who were “marking” her apartment regularly.

She lived two hours away at that time, and I let her know I would not be making that drive to visit her until those cats were gone or the problem was resolved.

Is that harsh, “Sex and the City” fans? I’m not sorry. A weekend trip to clean cat pee did not seem appealing then, or ever. This relationship had potential and deserved honesty. The kind of honesty which left me in a place not stinking of cat pee.

Fast forward a year and a few months and we are moving in together to a place where pets are not allowed.

“Can we go get George from Mama’s?”

“”There’s no pets allowed. It’s in the lease.”

“But, he’s so old. He’s going to die soon, and I haven’t lived with him in a year. He’s my dog. No one will ever notice. It’ll be fine.”

“He’s going to die soon?”

“Yes, he’s old and Bassets don’t live that long.”

This was a stretch of the truth by far. She railroaded me, knowing I would never take 30 seconds on my phone to investigate Basset Hound life spans.

George moved in and was spry. He ate hot dogs as his “treats.” He lived four more years.

Not only that, he became my best friend ever. We enjoyed road trips together. I spoke to him, literally. We had more conversations than the conversations I had with my friends.

Now that he’s gone, I lie awake at night and stare at pictures of George more often than I’d like to admit.

So, when Sally unlocked her gate to let me in her backyard, I let her know I would need to also see some things inside her home. She lightheartedly warned me she had 16 dogs. I was a little confused and thought I misheard her.

Then, she opened the door, and there were 16 senior citizen dogs - all Beagles and Bassets. Sally ran an elderly dog rescue from her home, which, somehow did not smell at all like 16 dogs lived there.

At least five of the 16 were Bassets. I immediately started petting dogs and letting Sally know all about George. I even tried to get a picture with one of them, but she was too skittish.

By the time Sally and I finished the paperwork, we had 16 dogs sleeping in a circle around us.

Juice Cleanse: Day 3

Day 3 of the juice cleanse started on the evening of Day 2. I woke up just before midnight. Things were starting to happen; things I thought would happen on Day 1. We’ll call it an evacuation of toxins. I guess this was the point, but it wasn’t pretty.

It also wasn’t miserable. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t need to stay near the bathroom, nor did I lose control of my bodily functions. It was just the kind of output you’d expect after days of only drinking fluids.

I went back to sleep and woke up feeling great. My wife actually said she could see a difference in my body. When I stepped on the scale, I weighed in at 194 lbs. I lost 12 pounds since I weighed myself the day before the cleanse.

Things were looking good. The wife and I went to the gym and worked out together. I’m definitely not going to say I was feeling strong, but I lifted things up and put them down for a while.

Just as the first two days, the major issue for me was feeling tired. Each day you were a little less tired though. I didn’t feel tired until about 4:00 p.m., but I definitely needed some couch time.

I sat on the couch thinking and telling my wife about all the glorious foods I would be able to eat tomorrow, especially grilling steaks for dinner.

“No, we can’t have that tomorrow. We have to ease back into those foods. Didn’t you read the daily guide?”

“Of course, I read it. I read right through Day 3.”

“Well, underneath, it talks about transitioning back to foods after your cleanse is over. We can have fruits and vegetables, and vegetable broth, or vegetable soup for the first couple of days following the cleanse.

Blank stare. Jaw dropped in disbelief. We didn’t come anywhere close to doing the pre-cleanse routine; in fact, we completely ignored it, but now we were going to follow the post-cleanse instructions? Nonsense. This is just not how we do things.

“If you eat all those things the first day back, you are going to feel terrible. This was supposed to be about cleansing our bodies and eating better.”

“I’m not sure I will feel terrible, and I won’t eat red meat, but I am definitely going to have meat and solids besides fruits and vegetables. We just spent the last three days having only fruits and vegetables. I didn’t do this to change my eating style; I just figured it would be a fun experiment, something to do that I had never done before.”

“So you don’t think you’ll ever do this again?”

“Never say never, but I can’t see it anywhere in my near future. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been an interesting three days, but I do not feel transformed into a new person.”

We settled on some middle ground in the food department. No red meat, but I will get to have some chicken.

Honestly, the cleanse was a good experience. Yes, I was tired, and yes, I was not feeling as mentally sharp as I usually do (although my wife says she felt even more mentally in-tune than she usually does), but I am glad I did it.

I never want to be one of those people who doesn’t try new things, especially when they are as easy as just sitting around drinking juice for three days.

At the end of Day 3, as I spooned our cat’s wet food out into his bowl and the air filled with its wet cat food scent, I knew I was ready. I knew it was time.

When a person is jealous of their cat’s dinner, and contemplates licking the spoon, just to see, just for a quick second, how it tastes - the experiment is over.

Juice Cleanse: Day 2

I had the misfortune of having to go by the grocery store yesterday on my way to pick up the final round of juices for our last day of cleansing. I went to pick up lemons because hot water with lemon would be permissible on the cleanse.

It did not occur to me until I was already in the belly of the beast just how terrible of an idea this was.

I only went to the produce section, but it was enough to stimulate a million cravings I had successfully suppressed for the first half of the day. I mean, I wasn’t even hungry. I only had two of my six juices, and it was already past noon. I should have had three by now.

This cleanse was a breeze. Sure, I was a little more tired than usual, but I had gotten a lot of work done today and gotten my exercise in for the day. Even better, I did not have to spend my time within running distance of a bathroom, which I thought would be mandatory.

I was brimming with positivity about making it through this. Then, I was surrounded by solid foods, and people buying those solid foods to go home and eat them. They were going to cut them up with forks and knives and chew them.

I immediately came home and threw myself into some work phone calls to rid myself of my own tortuous imagination.

The great thing about this cleanse is the juices are all pretty tasty. They even satisfy my hunger, and I’m an eater. It really makes me think about how often I’m eating because I’m bored, or it is part of my routine rather than out of hunger.

Juiceland

Not all of the juices are as rewarding as others; the Tigerlilly tastes like liquid lawn and Cocolilly isn’t far from it, but all of the other ones are actually refreshing. To be fair, when I had the Tigerlilly for the second time, it was not as big as a shock to my taste buds, and I actually enjoyed the Cocolilly. They tasted more like a liquid salad then lawn clippings.

If the juices are thick enough, as is the case with the Gingerade, Beverly Cleary, and The Fountain, it is almost like having a smoothie, almost. I fully savor my juices, which is why I am usually behind drinking schedule for one every two hours.

The Watermelon Chia Pep is the most unique of the six. It has a great watermelon flavor, but it also has chia seeds, which provide a little something to “chew” on, if you will.

I take my time drinking the juices, then fill the empty bottle with water and drink that quickly. This way, even the water has some flavor to it.

I’m looking forward to Day 3 - for so many reasons.

Juice Cleanse: Day 1

The day before the planned juice cleanse I mentally prepared myself for all of the horrors to come. But, after all my preparation (worrying), Day One was refreshingly uneventful as far as internal reactions to depriving myself of solid foods.

Juiceland provides a couple of helpful resources for the novice cleanser. Their overview provides the basics for the experience: six, 17oz juices per day: Gingerade, Beverly Cleary, Tigerlilly, Watermelon Chia Pep, Cocolilly, & The Fountain.

I reread their Day-By-Day Guide. This time, focusing on the pre-cleanse instructions.

The guide contains information on what to do pre-cleanse, as well. In the 24-48 hours leading up to the cleanse, the professionals at Juiceland recommend eliminating the following food groups:

• Dairy
• Wheat
• Meat (of all types, including fish)
• Sugar (Major problem for me)
• Alcohol
• Salt
• Coffee

Luckily, the list does not go on. How could it?

This is everything I eat. Cereal for breakfast, meat for lunch and dinner, coffee with sugar and French vanilla creamer (a.k.a. more dairy) throughout the day, and, of course, candy with my evening television routine.

Let’s not forget, I’m not working when I’m in Austin, so an adult beverage, or two, usually finds its way into my evenings.

It was clear. I would not be abiding by the pre-cleanse guide. I’m all-in for the actual cleanse, but in my mind, the day before was my last day to soak up the foods I love.

Naturally, instead of pre-cleansing, I followed my normal routine, with the addition of staying up late to have more candy, some popcorn, and a little chocolate. It may only be a three-day commitment, but it felt like my last meal, and I was going to make it last.

Happily, not following the pre-cleanse guide did not seem to have any discernible negative effects.

Juiceland is kind enough to include a list of detox symptoms in their Day-By-Day Guide for Day One. I did not suffer from many, but tiredness, moodiness, uneasiness, and weakness definitely hit me.

I noticed the work emails and phone calls about problems and corrections seemed more stressful than they would have on any other day. I am also usually an energetic person, but I felt like I was dragging my feet all day.

I went to bed at around 8:00 p.m.

Surprisingly, I was not hungry. The juices were filling, and I made sure I drank a gallon of water to keep me satisfied and help the cleansing process.

Even though I was not hungry, I was still having some serious cravings for a cup of coffee, meat, something salty, or any chewable item I could get my hands on.

At one point in the middle of the day, the exterminator was coming by our apartment. To distract our cat, I filled his mouse toy with treats. The only problem: his treats were in our pantry right next to the candy stash. I stood there, treats in hand, staring at my Twizzlers and jelly beans, wishing I could indulge.

The Yes Man

I have never been accused of being a “Yes Man” in my life. It is actually a point of pride; a badge I openly wear on my shoulder. I have my father to thank for it, and his father before him, I presume. I’m also pretty sure it’s a trait in my father’s mother as well - Grandma Helen was a pistol.

At any rate, I have often been heard saying, “I’ll do what I want.” Usually, this is followed by an action I will most likely regret, but I like to learn the hard way. Experience = Wisdom, right?

I will be so wise one day.

I don’t mean to come across selfish. I just have some strong opinions, and when I set my mind to something, it’s hard to change the path.

With the career change from principal to traveling salesman though, there was a big switch in my philosophy. I realized I would need to be more flexible, adaptable, have an agile personality.

Translation: I realized my wife would be footing the bills while I floundered in a pre-midlife crisis career change and asked for an allowance while I made no discernible income to add to our “joint” savings account, or even cover my own expenses.

The gist: We live in Austin. I work in Florida. I am gone two-three weeks at a time. My wife pays the bills.

When I am home, I cannot say no to bonding activities I usually would steer clear of, as we have limited time together and need to soak it up:

“Hey babe, want to go out to eat?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Hey babe, want to go to a wine tasting?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Hey babe, want to (insert activity (you get what I mean)).”

“Yes, dear.”

In fact, the only thing I do not have to say yes to is sitting around on the couch watching TV all day.

Texas is a land of sunshine with hardly any rain (despite the slow falling shower occurring as I write) and my wife knows I cannot sit still.

This is a trait I have most definitely inherited from my mother. If she sits long enough to drink an entire cup of coffee, she has wasted half the day.

Any other activity the wife picks is an automatic yes. I cannot say no.

I secretly hope she picks things like rock climbing, hiking, going to a Chinese buffet, candy shopping, or riding on the back of the Harley for three days straight.

Nope.

We are doing a juice cleanse.

That’s right. I said “yes.”

I eat meat as a meal twice a day. I have cereal with real milk everyday for breakfast, but for the next three days, I will drink six bottles of juice a day, no dairy or solid foods allowed.

Kill me now.

The three-day juice cleanse starts tomorrow. Nothing like being hungry for three days straight, with no caffeine. I never said no to this, but I did try my best to dissuade the decision.

First, I appealed to the ridiculousness of the financial aspect.

“Babe, these juices are like $7 each. We have to buy 12 a day total. We are going to be paying close to $100 dollars a day to starve.”

“So, I really want to try this. I think it will help me quit smoking.”

Nail in the coffin. How can I argue with that? Damnit. She’s too smart for me.

But I did keep trying. “Babe, are you going to be able to do this at work? I mean I’ll be home all day, but a juice cleanse pretty much puts your bathroom needs at a moments’ notice. What about your meetings and conference calls?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Of course it will be fine.

I stocked up on toilet paper.

The Escalator

I’m not a huge fan of flying. It’s not being in the air, or occasional turbulence. It is the lack of control, the waiting, the feeling of being in a bus in the sky, and, more than anything, having to deal with the general public.

Something happens when people, masses of people, get to an airport, at least in the United States. They seem to lose all common sense.

My biggest pet peeve of flying is traversing the airport. Most airports do everything they can to expedite your travel from wherever you were dropped-off to whichever gate you need to board your plane. There are trams, shuttles, escalators, and the human conveyor belt/moving sidewalk.

Despite these modern improvements, the general public finds ways to slow themselves, and everyone else, back down to a crawl.

In other countries I have visited, when people are too lazy or incapable of climbing the escalator while it moves, they stay to the side. In the US, however, they elect to stand in the middle of the escalator, spread out their luggage, and make certain no one else is able to pass, as they stare into space, or, more than likely, at their phone.

The same applies to the moving sidewalks. While the overall mission of all these devices is to speed the process, to get us from one place to another more quickly, the people continue to defy logic by using them to stand still and slow things down.

Possibly the worst part of this, is watching people who are truly in a hurry as they try and negotiate these aimless cattle, who apparently have no timeline and are just here at the airport with the same sense of urgency as a teenager at a mall.

As these poor souls try to go by and, hopefully, make it to their flight on time by having to say “excuse me” or “can I squeeze by” about a million times, the people in the way react in indignation, shocked at the idea of having to stop blocking the entire pathway and allow someone to move forward.

This entire situation drives me insane. Instead of “getting over it” as my wife continually pleads with me whenever we travel together, the opposite happens. It gets under my skin more and more each time.

Which brings me, to my flight home this morning. On my way from the rental car drop to the security line, I was forced to take an escalator. I typically avoid these at all cost and use the staircase, which is always quicker, but, unfortunately, there was no staircase in sight.

Just before I got on the escalator, the boy in front of me - probably about 10-years old - fell down. He literally toppled over backwards from the weight of his bags as the escalator transitioned into stairs and made him lose his balance. Not only did he fall, but as he regained his feet, his luggage wedged itself sideways on the escalator, causing the safety mechanism to kick-in and the escalator to stop.

All in, it probably took 60-seconds to help this poor kid to his feet and then yank his luggage free.

Sixty-seconds is a pretty decent amount of time. Sometimes people share YouTube videos with me and I cannot even make it through the full 60-second clip without being bored or wanting to move on to my next task.

Sixty-seconds is even longer if you are the completely embarrassed kid whose sister is laughing at him and telling him how he stopped the entire escalator for everyone. It felt long enough for me, and I was just the guy trying to dislodge his luggage.

The astonishing part of all of this is what happened once I freed the bag and looked-up to climb the escalator, now turned staircase.

As I looked-up from the bottom, I saw the escalator was still full, all the way to the top. Not one of these people had climbed the stairs and gone on with their life. They were all standing there, looking toward the top of the escalator, content to wait until it began moving again.

Absolutely, ridiculous.

Luckily for me, I was traveling alone and did not have to worry about embarrassing my wife with my disgust for these mental midgets when I loudly announced, “You are going to have to walk. You know, like a staircase, because it is not moving.”

The sheep began shuffling up the stairs, baa’ing at having to actually bear the weight of their own luggage.

A new low for my opinion of the general public.