Pack it in

 

From time to time, Beyond Reason ponders serious questions. What is a good life? Is love stronger than hate? Why do good people like Pickleball?

Enlightenment may exist not in the answer to the tough question but in pursuit of it. (It may not but it’s worth a shot.) Thus, it’s time to consider the fanny pack.

The fanny pack is a small bag worn on your fanny. Some say the fanny is your backside. But that distinction is unhelpful. Everyone has a backside, right there opposite the frontside. It starts at the heel and ends at the top of the skull. No, no. The term “backside” is imprecise. Thus, I’m going to give it to you straight. There’s no way to sugar coat this. The fanny is your butt, and the fanny pack is worn on your butt.

Now that we have that out of the way, the next question about the fanny pack must be: Why, man, why?

Some say a fanny pack is good for storing small items like your phone, wallet, and keys. But you know I currently have a completely adequate place to store my phone, wallet and keys. They’re called pockets. I have a four-year-old and need to carry more-than-a-few-just-in-case things: snacks; change of clothes (for when she jumps in muddy puddles or eats); books, etc. Thus, I sport a backpack. One size up would be a carry on. One size down is, I guess, sigh, a fanny pack.

When it was created in the late 80s, the fanny pack was used for hiking or walking and instantly became the least fashionable thing a human being could wear. But fashion is cyclical, and the fanny pack leapt from albatross to fashion statement. Really.

Haute couture designers like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Balenciaga, and Off-White make fanny packs. But I guess the truly surprising thing is not that companies make fanny packs, but consumers buy them then, wait for it, wear them. It’s inexplicable.

One point of distinction. The fanny pack is not a murse. A murse is, of course, a man purse. I only know one man who wears a murse and I can tell you Rudy takes a lot of flak for his commitment to that thing.

Back to the fanny pack. Look people. Either you need a bag, or you don’t need a bag. Pick a lane. Unless you want to use the fanny pack for something you don’t want in your pockets. Like drugs. I bet a fanny pack would be great for holding drugs. On the other hand, I’m no police officer but if I suspected someone of drugs, the first place I’d search would be their fanny pack.

Personally, I would rather not wear a fanny pack. More specifically, I would rather not go on living than wear a fanny pack. It’s right there in my will. Brain dead? Pull the plug. Fanny pack? Take me to pasture.

But… it was spring break. We took the kids to a theme park down in Florida. The park did not allow backpacks. The choice reminded me of an ethical thought experiment known as The Trolley. There are two choices. One choice is bad. The other choice is different bad. Should I enter the park without snacks or a change of clothes or anything – basically commando – OR should I acquiesce to the fanny pack? Bad? Or different bad?

In the end, let’s just say Frank Sinatra isn’t the only one with a few regrets. He did it his way. Until he didn’t. Thus: regrets. I can tell you Old Blue Eyes never wore a fanny pack. Or a murse. Only Rudy wears a murse. So, yes. I am human and also have regrets. I guess it could be worse. At least I don’t play pickleball.