It’s not easy to write this post, and I’ve put it off for a long time already. I thought me being at home and away from the day-to-day would make things easier. I thought I could take my mind off of the problem. But it didn’t work. It just kept staring at me, waiting for me to make a false move so it could remind me of the good times… and so, it is with great sadness…

… that I must retire my dinosaur-laden messenger bag.

Words cannot describe the services it has performed for me, the conversations it has helped me start, the travels and trials that it has helped me endure and overcome…

For you see, the picture above is from Chicago when the bag made its first out of state trip to Chicago, Il. and then Wyoming and Minnesota to go see Pitchfork Music Festival and Lollapalooza. It carried in precious fluids and snacks so we could enjoy bands all day, every day. It carried the pin I had that said “Green Part-AY” and had a girl ask me if I really believed in the Green Party

It accompanied me to the land of Bratwursts and Hot Air Balloons that is Reno, Nevada, holding my camera when I was too busy emphatically supporting various meat products. It came with me to Washington, D.C. and was by my side as I toured our nation’s capital.

I took it to the Lesbian Music and Comedy festival my freshmen year and it protected me, protected my very way of life, though it didn’t attract me too many girls…

It’s been there for me as a laptop holder, overnight bag, man-purse and pillow.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make. I heard the jeers from the onlookers, the comments that the bag was over-the-hill, had too many holes… WHATEVER MAN. Two years that bag and I have shared together, and I’m not about to forget it.

Here’s to you, baggy bag, and the memories we shared, then, now, and forever more.

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