MUCOLYTIC

Bagged down

Bags for men define who we are, or who we want ourselves to pass for.

There was a time I carried a backpack; I guess I subconsciously wanted to be a backpacker.

Then came a time I almost rode the body bag bandwagon, the one with an extraneous bulge stitched on for the cell phone. My sixth sense said the fad wouldn't last one season and I was right. I don't regret not giving in to the temptation.

Recently I toted the much-maligned clutch bag; I'm afraid bus conductors and jueteng kubradors dictated on my sensibility, but who cares? I believe cool resides in all places, so I relented.

One college kid has enough guts to carry a medic's Red Cross bag. It's where he carries his CDs around. Great move, I think, because he moonlights as an FM radio DJ.

I remember all the artists, leftist activists, and plain Igorots at UP Baguio who carried on their back the rattan weave pasiking with a lot of pride. I think I, too, had that phase.

I used to lug around five other different types of bag - a miniature traveler's tote bag with a zipper, a cloth sack with a drawstring, another one with velcros, and still another that's convertible to a pouchbag worn around the, well, pouch.

What's bugging me nowadays? Well, I wish to be a postman these days, carrying a stark black squarish bag with a long sling which I want to wear crossing my torso. (I got the idea from Tammy who's definitively one hip and happening person.) What's in the bag? Well, it shall give the wrong impression that I'm schlepping a laptop but actually all I have inside are credit card bills and other assorted detritus of my so-
called city life.

My false friend X. scoffs that carrying a bag makes one look so common. He means it's a dead giveaway - "bagmen" need bags because they don't drive a car. They might as well be carrying a gigantic Day Glo-orange garbage bag!

I am common, alright (sniff!), but what is wrong with that when I have the right attitude, i.e., one that's contained in a baggy kind of bag?