|My pack isn't this bad.|
The Pentagon invited me to GTMO to attend the trial of Khalid Shaikh Mohammad. I very much wanted to accept. I checked the calendar, weighed the options, and realized that no matter how badly I wanted to go, I wouldn't be able to.
Despite my "aw, nuts" disappointment, though, I had to face cold reality. Even if I did make it to GTMO, my backpack might not! Yes, my trusty field ruck is in such disrepair, I could not ask it to survive a spin in my Jeep, let alone a ride inside the hold of a military transport plane. Yes, it's that bad. The only thing left to do with the ruck is wrap it in duct tape and donate it to the Martians.
Seriously. Even with the pack securely taped, I'm not going to trek through American Cuba - or any other remote locale - with a bright silver lump on my back. The Martians have silver uniforms, right? Let them take the bag.
So, yes - it may be a girl thing - but the beat-up-silver-lump scenario is totally unsat. Not only that, but I'm also way behind the curve for field-toting my Modern Reporter gear. What to do, what to do....