I Hate Checking My Bag

I met my friend Mikkel Aaland last night at Oracle Arena for a Warriors game. We hadn't seen each other for a while, so I thought a rendezvous in Oakland would work out great. And it did.

Mikkel lives in San Francisco. So he took the BART train to the Arena. I drove down from Santa Rosa. We met in the Budweiser Club for a drink before the game.

I had my Walking Man Shoulder Bag with an iPad mini (the new one!), Canon PowerShot N, a few personal items, and a Stephen Curry bobble head that we each received on entrance to the arena. Everything fit great in my shoulder bag.

I was reading the SF Chronicle on the iPad when Mikkel arrived. He didn't have anything on him. Just his iPhone. I later learned that his backpack with Nikon and lenses had to be checked by Security. It was too big to be allowed in the arena.

I was able to keep my shoulder bag on me the entire evening because it was so light and was never in the way. Even when I was in my seat during the game it rested nicely on my lap.

We had a great evening, even though the Warriors lost in overtime. As we parted to separate exits, I couldn't help wondering if Mikkel would remember to get his bag on the way out. And if so, were the contents intact?

What messy thoughts. I hate checking my bag.