The packing mistake I won’t make again

Less is more.

That’s always been my travel philosophy.

Whether I’m leaving for a weekend visit to see my parents in Gettysburg or spending two weeks backpacking through Central America, I try to pack only what I truly need. Every item has to earn its place in my suitcase.

I channel my inner Marie Kondo.

“Do I really need this?”

“Will this make my trip better?”

If the answer is no, it stays home.

For years, that approach served me well.

Then one slippery ramp changed my mind.

It happened less than 48 hours into our vacation.

The ramp had become slick from a steady stream of people climbing out of the pool and tracking water and sand onto the concrete. As I started down toward the beach, my right foot shot forward while my left leg slid behind me.

I unknowingly performed the first split I’ve attempted in years.

I was back on my feet almost instantly, hoping no one had noticed my less-than-graceful dismount.

I didn’t feel much pain until I looked down.

Blood was running down my leg and into the sand.

Apparently, I had left a fair amount of skin behind.

Within minutes, my foot began to swell, and I found myself hobbling back toward a seating area.

“So this is how our vacation is going to go,” I thought.

A lifeguard eventually wandered over with a first-aid kit and proceeded to pour what I can only assume was molten lava disguised as rubbing alcohol onto my leg.

I survived.

He patched me up with a couple of Band-Aids, and I figured I’d be good to go.

I wasn’t.

Over the next several days, my foot continued to swell. Every step became a reminder that concrete usually wins.

The logical thing would have been to buy more supplies from the resort gift shop.

Instead, my stubborn side took over.

I simply could not bring myself to spend $7 on a box of Band-Aids and $16 on the dollar-store equivalent of antibiotic ointment.

Resort prices have a funny way of convincing you that maybe you don’t need functioning skin after all.

So I improvised.

Soap.

Water.

Tissue paper.

Wishful thinking.

For three days.

By the fourth day, reality had won. My foot had swollen enough that my flip-flop barely fit, and I finally surrendered to the gift shop.

As I reluctantly handed over far too much money for basic first-aid supplies, I realized this whole ordeal could have been avoided with one small pouch that probably weighs less than a bottle of water.

I’ve always believed in packing light.

What I learned is there’s a difference between packing light and packing smart.

The day I got home, I built my own travel first-aid kit.

It’s nothing fancy. Everything fits into a small zippered pouch that slips easily into a backpack or carry-on. If I ever need more than what’s inside, chances are I’ll be heading to an urgent care or emergency room anyway.

The basics don’t take much room: Band-Aids, antiseptic wipes, antibiotic ointment, gauze, medical tape and a few pain relievers.

The rest is made up of small items that can solve surprisingly big problems. Hydrocortisone cream for bug bites and mystery rashes. Tweezers for splinters, ticks or cactus needles. Safety pins, which somehow solve more travel problems than you’d expect. Aloe vera for the inevitable sunburn that starts with, “I’ll only be outside for a few minutes.” An antacid for vacation meals your stomach wasn’t expecting. Anti-diarrheal medication because, well…if you don’t have it, you’ll wish you did. Electrolyte tablets after long travel days, excessive heat or dehydration. Hand sanitizer, sunscreen and lip balm round out the kit.

The entire thing takes up less room than an extra pair of shoes.

Hopefully, I’ll never need most of it.

But I also hope I never again find myself debating whether a $7 box of Band-Aids is really worth it.

I still believe less is more.

I’ll probably always be the person asking whether something truly deserves a spot in my suitcase.

But now I know that packing light isn’t about bringing the fewest things.

It’s about bringing the right ones.