The Pack Rat Story

There is a store in Fayetteville, Arkansas called The Pack Rat. It is an outdoor adventure store, with all sorts of fun posh gear. 99% of the time I absolutely do not need anything from that store (nor do I have the money). It is filled with all sorts of glorious camping and canoeing bits - and whenever I go in there - just to browse - I get excited about how I could use the solar powered GPS device that can start a fire and cut my meat. I also greatly wonder about all that dehydrated camping food - Do the contents of that package really taste like lasagne? or steak? or cake?

Another big plus for the store is that it is staffed by beautiful people (mostly ruggedly handsome young men) :) It always amazes me how consistently fabulous the staff always looks. I have shopped at The Pack Rat for over seven years, and I have never once seen an ugly or ordinary person yet (and being an ordinary person myself - I feel I'm qualified to make that assessment).
So, about two minutes after I found out I was going to Africa - I was on my way to The Pack Rat. I had a list, some money, and a really good excuse to be there...My moment had arrived!

*As a side note - I want to mention how sporting equipment is a fabulous way to attract men. It is really similar to the man holding a puppy or a baby to attract women strategy. I'm telling you women out there - that a bike rack on the trunk of your car equals action.*

I walked into their large, two-story, log cabin like building, that has canoes and kayaks hanging from the ceiling, with a great big smile on my face. I strode up to the counter being manned by an early twenty something - tanned and well-built - young man, who I will call "Zack", and told him in the sweetest of voices that I was in need of a solar powered battery recharger - with titanium NiMH rechargeable batteries, and a Gore-Tex carrying case ... Please (eyelashes flashing). "Zack" definitely needed a minute to process that one. Three seconds later - we were practically sending out wedding invitations... he was so helpful. Eventually there were about 2 other cuties helping me pick out a knife, super absorbent towels, unbreakable mirrors, and Nalgene accessories.

Finally, all I had left to pick out was a backpack. I realized in Morocco that I was going to need more than a daypack, so I was looking at small internal frame hiking backpacks. I had thankfully done a little research on the right kind of pack I would need (thus enhancing my self proclaimed coolness), and "Zack", dually impressed with my knowledge, led me upstairs to the pack section. My coolness was a little tainted when I had to impress upon "Zack" my need for the cheapest friggen pack they carried. He went with the flow, and informed me that he was going to have to go get "Brian" to help us (packs not being his expertise). So here comes "Brian" (aka... Super Hottie) to help me part with my money. He very politely asked me what I was looking for, and, after I explained what I needed for Africa, he started explaining the different pack uses and abilities. I have to honestly say I didn't understand anything he said (except for the word backpack). I smiled and repeated my need for cheapness - "Brian" smiled an understanding smile, and said, "Well ma'am, first thing that we are going to need to do is measure you." Mind you - he says this as he is pulling a long measuring tape out of his pocket. Excuse me - Are you kidding? Did he just say that he is going to have to measure me? I don't think so! So I smile, which is fading slightly, and say, "Can't you just eyeball it?" "Brian", who looks very serious suddenly, says, "Umm, well... yes... Umm... Ma'am... I am going to need to measure you." (Poor guy...not!)

*Side note: I have found that the general assumption of outdoor/adventure gear and clothing companies is that women bigger than five foot six and one hundred pounds just don't participate. Grrr.*

So, I let Mr. Handsome measure my back length, and take my waist measurement. (Humiliating). And then drama ensues. I apparently measure out to a women's back pack size medium, but my waist measurements are a women's large. Blah. And apparently this is a big problem for the same companies that can create material that can withstand Keith Richards type disasters. "Brian" tells me that the cheapest pack won't fit me, and the company (North Face) won't customize for me. But - he does work out that another company (Osprey) will custom order me the right pack (for a small fee), and that they will sell me the more expensive pack for the cheaper pack price. Yeah! Problem solved right? Yeah no. About a week later, I get a call that my pack is in, and I can come pick it up. I'm totally excited, and once again enter my favorite store with a big smile and a sense of purpose. (The week before, I had left The Pack Rat with not much of a smile) The crushing moment came when the waist belt was about 2 inches short of being perfect. Another cute guy, "Jack," was helping me, and was really obsessed with fixing my dilemma. The whole time I was dying to just shout that I wasn't even going to use the fucking waist belt, but I figured that wouldn't be the most kosher thing to say at the moment. So, I allowed myself to be measured yet again, and we spent the better part of an hour coming up with ways to rig the belt. (...and I have to still pay for this thing?) I can assure you that I was praying for lightning. At some point during the fiasco, I mentioned that I was going to Africa, and I probably would lose some weight. "Jack" very innocently made the insulting remark that I "probably shouldn't bank on that." (Yeah you heard me right) Anyway - I finally fled the scene with my new pack - giving "Jack" false promises about how I was going to re-sew part of the waist belt strap to add some length.

For the next week, that backpack created the most anxiety ever. My mind kept going over the fact that it had to be too tall to take as a carry on. I even brought it to work with me to get my staff's opinions, and some of the children's. So around 2am one morning as I was coming in from the bar (Go Vodka), I decided to do something about it. I customized that pack myself (for free). I made some very precise surgical tears, and ripped that shitty internal frame right out of that pack! I even made it more waterproof with the addition of some carefully placed duct tape. That baby is so coming on the plane with me! :) Shh.. Don't tell "Zack," "Brian," or "Jack," - They would kill me. Hee Hee.