From Security Line to Panic Mode – My Carry-On Confessions

The struggle of staying cool while everything’s falling apart.

I like to think I love airports. They’re like the bookends of every trip, neatly framing the start and end of someone’s journey. And in between those bookends? A whole story I’ll never fully know but can’t help trying to guess. I sit back, people-watching, imagining the chapters in between: the eager backpacker heading off on an adventure, the weary traveler coming home, the family juggling bags and kids, all with tales to tell. Where are they going, and why? The airport holds a million stories, and I’m totally here for it. 

Except for airport security. 

It’s kind of like when you’re shopping with cash in the U.S. They hand you the change on top of the bills, and now you’re stuck juggling everything like you’re in a circus act, all while feeling the laser eyes of the cashier and the person behind you, silently judging your inability to quickly shove the mess into your wallet. It’s a struggle, and it’s real.

Every security checkpoint is like a game show, but the rules keep changing. What do I take out of my bag? Are my shoes staying on or off? And they’re always yelling out instructions while you’re still 10 people back in line, as if we all have the ability to unpack our electronics, liquids, and dignity at lightning speed. Meanwhile, I can feel the people behind me, already piling their stuff in the bins, practically breathing down my neck while I’m still struggling with my shoes.

I try—oh, how I try—to pack my bag like a pro. “This time, I’ve got it all figured out,” I tell myself. Spoiler: I never have it all figured out. There’s always a curveball waiting.

My worst moment? Let me paint you a picture. I’m in Toronto, connecting to another flight. My first flight was delayed, and now I’m racing the clock to make my next one. Security is waiting, as is the never-ending line for customs. To add to the fun, my daughter (who lives in Toronto) is texting me from the gate with real-time updates on boarding: “Mom, they’re boarding Zone 1.” Her tips are meant to be helpful – cheering me on. Mom, you’ve got time! Don’t stress. Of course, I stress.

The security line is massive. I finally get through. Of course, my bag gets flagged for additional screening. They start pulling everything out, and suddenly I’m holding a mountain of random stuff, none of which is fitting back in the bag like it did at home. They’re shouting at me to leave the counter, my hands are full, and I’m just trying to shove everything back in, but it’s like an airport version of Tetris that I’m absolutely losing. Meanwhile, my flight is boarding, and I still have to deal with customs. Oh, and my carry-on? The handle won’t raise. Thank you, Monos – this is a known issue according to my quick Google search. Good thing I bought the expensive luggage!

So now I’m doing this awkward shuffle—carry-on dragging, arms full of nonsense, heart racing, and there’s still immigration. In line, I think, “Okay, I’ve got a minute. I’ll just repack everything.” I’m balancing my passport in one hand and trying to stuff my loose items into the bag with the other when… I drop everything. My deodorant is rolling away like it has places to be (I should have known better than to bring liquid deodorant in my carry-on!), and I’m just standing there, wanting to cry. People behind me are furious, probably because they think I’m going to make them miss their flight. I wave them ahead while I gather my dignity (and deodorant) off the floor.

Somehow, I made it to the gate as the very last person to board. Victory! Kind of.

After this debacle, I’m rethinking my entire travel strategy. Should I check my bag? But then I’d probably be writing a post about how my suitcase went to Cancun while I’m stuck with no clothes in NYC. The carry-on bag I thought was so perfect, with all its compartments and pockets? Useless in a time crunch. It was good in theory – there’s nothing worse than rummaging through a bottomless pit of a bag mid-flight trying to find your headphones—or maybe there is. Standing in line at security, trying to wedge 100ml bottles into a million tiny compartments. Not my finest moment.

During this trip, I found myself creepily studying other travelers. What bags are they using? What essentials are they carrying? How are they not losing their minds in the process?

Here’s my new plan: only bring what you need – and anything that needs to be taken out at security OR on the plane should fit into a small tote with a luggage slip. Easy access to the essentials, and hopefully, fewer moments of pure, chaotic panic.

Tips? Tricks? Let me know!!

HOT PICK – EASY TOTE FOR TRAVEL