HARRIET DYER
As a kid growing up in Townsville, North Queensland, travel was so exciting. Getting out of our little town, going to see my Melbourne grandma, the smell of the suitcase my parents bought me to have as my very own, the little colouring-in pencils, fighting over the beds in the hotels. We were lucky enough to do a fair bit of this as a family and I treasure the memories.
Now, as an adult who travels largely for work, I still have that sense of excitement, except it's more grown-up. I look forward to selecting my seat (with a little help from SeatGuru - check it out if you haven't previously, it tells you where the toilets and babies are), treating myself to a gin and tonic and some cheese and biscuits and having guilt-free downtime. It still has a sense of wonder and possibility and that tempers the latest goodbye from my partner and our dog, Walter, who we think calls suitcases "sad boxes".
Although I am traveling a lot these days, the thing that baffles me is I am still no better at packing my sad box. I haven't perfected the T-shirt roll, bought the right tiny bottles for all my products and I always forget my chargers and toothbrush. Every time I travel, I think, "this time I will do it right, come on Harri" but I get carried away and every time I forget to wear an earring or pack a pin to ease the changing my sim card and I end up trying to sweet talk air crew for the use of their name badge.
