My Favorite Backpack

As a follow-up to last week’s blog on packing, I thought I’d share a little story on the purchase of my favorite backpack.

Everybody comes across things in life they just have to have. I used to think I had to have my own a beach house loaded with every kind of sports gear imaginable, set in front of a pristine coral break where a dolphin, named Rah, would get me mixed up in varying degrees of shenanigans on the high seas.

However, the subject of wanting and having, all came into perspective around a black backpack a few years back when I went window-shopping with my friend Kevin.

It was mid-afternoon when we walked into a high-end sports superstore with the sole purpose of perusing through our individual wish lists. I was mainly into the biking section and Kevin was giving the climbing gear a good once over.

When I was walking back to meet up with Kevin, I stopped dead in my tracks in front of a counter near the backpack section.

I was definitely not in the market for a pack. But, what I saw... this thing was stygian black, titanium stitched, nuclear grade composite, polymersaturated majesty. In addition to being the prefect size for my laptop and papers, it had special compartments for rappelling gear and spent rounds. The knowledge of its existence carried my soul away to Stirling Lines in Hereford, UK. If I had been a policeman in a bust, I would pull this thing out instead of a gun and I would most certainly have got the same level of attention.

A tear formed in the corner of one of my eyes. If you read Men's Journal and you weep over the equipment section near the back of the magazine, you know what I am talking about.

I walked right up to the backpack. I contemplated picking it up, but I didn't know if some alarm would go off or some massive cobweb covered boulder would come rolling out of the ceiling to crush me. A split second before deciding I was going to go for it, Jeff the super-sales-clerk, wisps by, picks up the bag, holds it up in front of my face, and with a big-ole-smile says, "nice pack eh?"

Poor Jeff's prepubescent acne covered face looked like it had been hit a couple times by the boulder in the ceiling. I knew he'd grow out of it, but it was more than enough to kick me out of my trance. I followed the conversation and asked Jeff for the cost for the backpack. He showed me the price tag. The price, $210, was well over what I was willing to pay for a 30L backpack.

I was upset. The backpack caught my attention on such a profound level, yet there was no way I could justify the expense. The end did not justify the means. I was beat, and I loathed the feeling.

I sincerely thanked Jeff for helping me out, took one last look at the backpack, sighed, and went to the climbing department to find Kevin.

On the drive home I told Kevin about the bag and fumed over the price.

Out of the blue, Kevin came up some grand words of wisdom. He asking me how often I saw something that truly blew my hair back. I told him it rarely happens. He then suggested that, if in a couple of weeks the backpack still weighed heavy in my mind, I should go back and get it. I admit it; I felt a little man-crush on Kevin at that moment.

One week went by. Then two. The backpack was still at the front of my thoughts. I was clearly hooked because I caught myself doodling pictures of me and the backpack on scrap pieces of paper and daydreaming about hiking through the Himalayas with it. I even told some other friends about it. They all thought I had lost my mind --the thing was they had not seen the backpack and they did not know the reality of what I was talking about.

On the fourteenth day, I decided I could not stop thinking about the backpack and that it was time to go shopping. After two weeks of personal atonement, the end did justify the means.

To get into the mood, I put my credit card in my pocket, stretched, did a few push-ups, and walked out to my car. It was a good thing I recently put new spark plugs in the old Civic, because I was looking to break the land speed record on the way to the sports store.

With a big smile on my face, I made my way over to the counter where I'd last seen the backpack. I felt like a character from a 70's disco theme movie. My imagination when to a scene with friends everywhere cheering me on, while a skull-snaps groove played in the background among a hundred high-five's, head bands, tight pants, and pointing fingers. The sparkling ghost of Bruce Lee was standing next to the shades rack and he did the thumbs up thing as I walked by. Poetry I had once heard by D. H. Lawrence rang in my head, "The ebb and flow of the Atlantic tides, the drifts of the continents, the very position of the sun along its ecliptic. These are just a few of the things I control in my world", I was king!

It was too bad it all ended pretty quickly when I noticed that the backpack, I had so very much wanted to purchase that day, was not on the counter anymore. I checked behind the counter, but it was not there either.

I went hunting for Jeff D. Supersalesclerk. I knew Jeff wouldn't let me down. He had braces and was in pain and I knew he wouldn't think to impose the same on me.

I never found Jeff, but I did spot the name tag of the Sr. Manager of Outdoor Sports Superstore, who just happened to be walking by. I asked if he could please help me get one of the backpacks they had on the counter, which obviously must be stashed away in the storeroom.

I bet he used to be a Marine or something, because he seemed to know exactly what I was dealing with --that or he really liked impulse buyers interested in spending money on high-margin merchandise. With authority, he waved over the closest sales clerk, looked at her nametag, and asked, "Karen, could you please go into the back and see if there are any more of those backpacks we had on display."

The look on her face gave me chills. It was foreboding. It was like she was in possession of information she did not want to share.

Regardless, she left us and went into the back.

Things just weren't going my way, because she came out a few minutes later empty handed. She looked really sorry and told me that they had sold the last one that very morning.

Whatever Karen was trying to tell me, it was not sinking in.

I looked to the Sr. Manager for some answers, but all he could offer me was a self-negating smile that seemed to say both, "I am truly very sorry" and "there is no sale here; now’s probably a good time to leave”.

I was about to try to vocalize something when the Sr. Manager cut me off and excused himself. Before leaving, he let me know that Karen would be pleased to help me with any other questions I had.

I thanked him for his help and he left.

Suddenly, I was hit by a memory from grade school. I was at my desk laughing and kidding around with all my buddies. I was all smiles that day. We were supposed to be going on a much-anticipated field trip to the Zoo. It was a beautiful day. That was until our teacher walked in the classroom and informed us the trip had been canceled indefinitely due to a transportation scheduling error. Then, without batting an eye, she told us to take out our spelling books.

The same agony was back.

This was supposed to be a happy day. I played by the rules. I waited for two weeks and I wanted the backpack. I wanted my peace.

I took a minute to collect my thoughts. I simply had to accept they were out of stock for now. No big deal. I pulled myself together, turned to Karen, and asked, "Could you please let me know when you'll be getting another shipment?" Her eyes squinted like she was being asked to handle some highly-sensitive explosives. She took a step back and let me know that the bags were a one-time limited quantity special edition order.

My jaw dropped. What was I supposed to do with that information? What could I do?

I just had to accept that I had waited on something and lost. All I could do was try to make the best of it. I tried to chalk it up to experience. I thought to myself, the next time I really want something, I will buy it or walk away and never look back.

My attempt to rationalize the situation faded. It was too weak. The disappointment was overwhelming.

The reptilian part of my brain took over. I attacked the situation with boolean logic. I thought to myself, "If, I give up and go home, then, I will probably take a major blow on my self esteem, start drinking heavily, lose my job, buy a couple Nine Inch Nail CDs, and walk the streets mumbling something about pigs. Else, if I don't give up, then, I might get the bag."

I cleared my throat and turned to Karen. I told her I wanted the backpack and that I'd really appreciate her help in looking for some other options. Karen said she'd see what she could do and took off to look for her supervisor.

About a minute later, she came back with her supervisor, Rae. I explained the situation to Rae. You could tell Rae had been in her job way too long. She tried to handle the situation like a seasoned pro but seemed slow on the follow through. She basically covered what Karen had already told me and apologized for not being of any more service.

I decided to up the ante.

I asked if the backpack was distributed to their competitors across the road. I think I had hit a nerve, because Rae came to life after that. It was almost like she finally related the price tag to her commission and there was no way she was going to let the cash drop into someone else's pocket. She never answered my question. Instead, she took my name and phone number, and promised she'd try to get a hold of one of the backpacks for me.

I walked back to the car and got in. I knew I was leaving empty handed, but I was feeling a little better knowing there was still some hope.

About two weeks later Rae called me at home. She seemed so pleased to inform me the backpack had arrived. I didn't bother to ask how or why, I just told her I was on my way.

I put my credit card in my pocket, did some push-ups, and like Forrest Gump, "I was-a-running".

The backpack has proven to be well worth the trouble. When I brought it out for the first time, each and every one of my friends apologized for doubting me. I use it pretty much every day. Even though I am fairly aggressive with it, the backpack has never let me down. At a Halloween party last year, I used it as part of a S.W.A.T Officer costume. When I burst through the front door of the house, everyone who was doing things they weren’t supposed to be flew out the back door. I was vindicated.

Throughout this experience, I thought I had learnt a couple more things about perseverance and doing whatever it takes to get the things you want in life. However, after thinking it over more, I understood something more profound. I truly understood, for the first time, that anything worth wanting is really only worth having if it inspires imagination, humor and goodwill.

My next major acquisition... a beach house.

Stephen