A long time ago, in a little mom and pop store called Walmart, I bought an unassuming, black and red messenger bag from the on sale school supply aisle in preparation to go to Quebec High School (I had deemed my L.L. Bean backpack's wheels and carting handle a bit too unsightly for high school). I was under the impression that messenger bags were the bees knees.
I was correct. I now know from experience that man bags are, in fact, the bees knees.
Over times, this majestic murse not only earned a spot slung over my shoulder, but metamorphosed in both appearance and practicality. I soon added Jack Skellington, Quebec Rugby, 1up, and Watchmen patches to the outer flap and a few pins to the strap. And almost immediately, Mr. Manbag went from a school supply carrier to an all-around awesome satchel, carrying on a regular basis most of my life and occasionally moonlighting as a much-too-large "personal item" on flights to America.
The bag, at optimum capacity and full usefulness, carries my planner, two notebooks, and a script, with various loose pieces of paper. Just ask anyone who spoke to me from mid-December to January 12th how important to me my planner is-- those were the dark days that it was lost. Any major event and homework assignment is inscribed in those pages-- with a planner and I might be described as slightly forgetful, without one I become a younger but just as frayed man-bag toting version of the abhorrent Uncle Billy from "It's a Wonderful Life."
Above, left: Uncle Billy, or: The guy who ruins everythingLast but not least are my notebooks. On is for work, stuffed with menus, to-do lists, and journalism articles, the other is for everything else, from quotes to blogs to ramblings to letters to whatever else. I'm not going to mince words. It's a journal. It is not, however, a diary. Those are for girls.
But like any good item of sentimental value, the sideways backpack is more than just the sum of its parts. This bag has been with me in Quebec, Africa, the States-- there and back and there and back again. I love it like I would a pair of good old shoes that have traveled with me forever , except no one's forcing me to throw it away, and I certainly hope I never grow too wide for that giant strap. Few material items have that kind of longevity coupled with such thorough use. You just have to respect it.
Anyway, I don't know what will become of my manly purse next year, other than it's definitely coming with me to college. My hope is that develops a blanky-to-Linus-esque connection to me. I just don't know what kind of sport-coat a messenger bag would make.
-Will
"Plus, it's not a man-purse, it's called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one."
