One of the most stressful parts of going on vacation is packing for that vacation, followed closely by unpacking from that vacation. You want to pack everything you need, but you also don’t want to schlep a lot, but you also are going for as many days as you can to somewhere that none of your stuff lives.
So you do everything you can to pack lightly. You say things like, “I don’t need bug spray. The whole year there’s bug spray in my house, and I don’t use it. Suddenly I’m going to be hiking for four days, and that’s when I’m going to need bug spray?”
The point of vacation is to plan a place to go to get away from it all, and then bring it all with you.
This includes relatives. Some summers, my wife’s entire family gets together in a rental home, except for those who can get out of it. It’s one of those trips where the grandparents pay for the place, and everyone says, “That’s a great idea! We’ll save so much money!” And then everyone has to pay for travel, and feeding each other, and day trips, and every day trip is a never-ending negotiation and a mess of everyone laying out money for everyone else, and it costs everyone way more than it would cost if they just took their own vacation somewhere, but everyone has to thank Bubby and Zaidy every single time they pass them the entire vacation and then chip in for a grand thank-you gesture afterward.
It’s supposed to save everyone on packing, at least. Which is very nice on paper. Like you make up ahead of time that instead of everyone bringing their own coffee and sugar and cups, one family will bring coffee, one will bring sugar, and one will bring cups. What a great idea!
But let’s say you’re in charge of the coffee. So if it’s just your immediate family in a motel room, you would pack the smallest Ziploc bag you own with literally eight teaspoons of coffee grounds. You may also premix the sugar into the bag. Then you’ll transport this baggie inside one of the cups you’re going to use, which will be inside the other three cups. Whereas if you go with an extended family of 30 people or more, there’s no way you can do that. There’s no way you can explain to all those people individually on the first day as they’re unpacking all the stuff they had to pack that this little Ziploc bag is coffee, and the other one is decaf, while they’re all explaining to everyone that the prescription bottle with no label is Tylenol and the film canister is Advil, and the square Tupperware is mayonnaise and the round one is marshmallow fluff.
So you basically have to bring an entire coffee station, like you would at a simcha. With full jars—all 300 spoons’ worth. Plus the jar itself, in order to make your brother-in-law happy, the one who doesn’t trust your coffee hashgacha but will cheerfully eat the barbecue supper you’re preparing with zero labels on anything. And why did six people bring Raisin Bran?
You also way over pack, because if it’s just your family, you can decide that you don’t need something for a couple of days, but if it’s everyone, who are you to decide? And every family has their own weird things that they absolutely need. Like you’ll make scrambled eggs, and someone will ask, “Is there mustard?” And it didn’t even occur to you to bring mustard. And he’s like, “You said you were in charge of scrambled eggs; how could you not bring mustard?” Or else you did bring it, but no one asks, because they want to be nice, and then you find the mustard behind all the Raisin Bran boxes after supper is over.
And you don’t want to be short on anything. If you’re short, you can’t just make an announcement, because some people won’t hear you. You have to stand up during a meal.
“Ooh, Mordechai’s going to say a dvar Torah!”
“No I’m not. I’m just saying, ‘We’re short on garbage bags, so everyone go easy.’”
“You can’t at least tie that into the parsha?”
“Okay. It says, ‘Uv’lechtecha vaderech’… wait, Sholom, you wanted to say something?”
“I wanted to announce that the knife with the M on it is milchig, not meat. And the one with the D on it has been used for deli.”
Really what you need is a packing list. I’m probably forgetting some things, but so will you:
Clothing—Everyone has to pack their own. This can’t be communal.
Bottled water—Because who knows how the drinking water is out there, in the mountains where the bottled water comes from? I am literally looking at the bottle and noticing that it looks exactly like the mountain we’re driving toward.
Dish soap—Make sure to pack one you like, because all your clothes will smell like it.
Can opener—We’ve all forgotten this.
Tablecloths—Jews are the only people who bring tablecloths to the picnic tables in the park. Everyone else is okay with eating on other people’s gunk and bird footprints, like a waiter is coming around every half hour and wiping down the tables.
Seforim—So that if there’s any activity you don’t want to be a part of, you can go, “Well, time to learn!”
Broom—Because where on earth do the hosts keep the broom?
Tums—Because you don’t know what anyone else is making or how long it’s been in their car.
Baby wipes—These have a thousand uses. You don’t even need a baby! Ninety percent of being a parent is just wiping things.
Tissues—Because people are like, “I probably won’t have to blow my nose. I’m on vacation!” Or they can use wipes.
That Betty Crocker pizza maker that every Jewish family has. Just make sure to mark whose pizza maker is fleishig or milchig, because it only comes in one color.
“Wait, what did the F stand for?”
“Fish.”
Mordechai Schmutter is a freelance writer and a humor columnist for Hamodia and other magazines. He has also published eight books and does stand-up comedy. You can contact him at [email protected].
