Backpack Tips by a Lightly-Seasoned Veteran
As a college senior entering his final semester en route to a 6-year Bachelor's Degree (not by design, but by indecision and poor scheduling) I consider myself qualified in the subject of backpacks. Of course, I do not wish to label myself as strictly a 'school backpacker'. In fact, as an Eagle Boy Scout I was no stranger to the damp hikes of the Washington wilderness with my sturdy external frame hiking pack. I have since traveled the world for work with my protective laptop backpack, and I now frequent the Rocky Mountains with my trusty mountain bike and hydration pack.
Now that my backpack credentials have been established, I would like to throw in my two cents in each category. I'll start with school backpacks. Organization is key! I need a nice spacious main compartment with a multi-pocketed front pouch for all my nick-knacks. Pens, pencils, erasers, staplers, and (most importantly) candy and gum. Snacks. That's what got me through high school. I also need some serious durability. Normally you would pair the term 'durability' with your outdoor packs as a requirement, but regardless of how dedicated you are to Mother Nature, I would love to see a man who has used his hiking pack as many times as the college grad has used his school packs since kindergarten. The fact is, your school backpack takes a beating. It doesn't help that at the end of a wonderfully frustrating exam-filled day you skid your backpack across the ground (with it's 85 lbs of books and loose paper) and kick it all the way home. I was lucky if a school backpack ever lasted me a full school year, let alone two. That is, until I found my current treasure, a beautiful North Face backpack that has served me well for over 2 years and still looks like the day I got it.
As for hiking backpacks, comfort is key! Yes all the fancy straps, clips, and cords are neat, but when you're 2 miles into a 30 mile hike and your back and shoulders already feel like silly putty, you're not too worried about your secret pockets and fancy bells and whistles. In fact, you're burning everything you can spare in the evening fire to try to shed some weight. My advice, get a nice, ergonomic frame with a vented air-passage on the back and a padded, sturdy waist strap. Your legs and hips can support a lot more weight much more comfortably than your shoulders can. Make sure your pack is sized to fit your body type (some even have adjustable frames to get it just right).
Laptop backpacks should be all about protection. Make sure your notebook computer fits snug and has good padding all the way around. Backpacks tend to get tossed around and you don't want your notebook computer to take a hard shot on the corner without padding to absorb the impact. Ogio makes a great line of laptop backpacks with a special attention to style as well. InCase makes some as well with a very soft, thick, padded pouch.
My modest investment in a hydration backpack was one of my smartest moves as an sportsman. You can't have too much water when your out in the wilderness on a bike, board, or climb and a hydration backpack is the smartest and easiest way to keep hydrated. It can typically hold from 1-3 liters of water and they are light and snug enough that you barely even notice it on your back. They generally have additional compartments to hold a Cliff bar, knife, and some tools, for example.
Wherever life takes you, make sure your belongings are tucked a way in the appropriate backpack. To see a great line of sport, work, school, and travel backpacks, go to BackpackStash.com.
About the Author
I consider myself somewhat of a jack-of-all trades for the digital world. I enjoy writing, I love graphic design, I own, manage, and market a handful of websites, and am, naturally, an expert e-commerce shopper. In spite of all this, I can't get enough of the outdoors and frequently find myself struggling to balance my time between the outside world and the digital one! When I do choose the online world, my attention is typically dedicated to the websites that I manage, which include a site dedicated to backpacks, called BackpackStash, a modern art site called ModernAbstractDecor and a logo design site known as SpicyLogo.
The True Spirit of Christmas
One more hour, I thought. Just one more hour and I'm free- It was Christmas Eve and I was stuck in beauty college. It wasn't fair. I had better things to do than wait on fussy old women with blue hair. I had worked hard and fast to get four shampoo-sets and one manicure finished before lunch. If I had no more appointments scheduled,I could leave at two o'clock. Just one more...
"Number seventy-one. Carolyn,number seventy-one. "
The receptionist's voice over the intercom made my heart fall to my stomach."You have a phone call. "A phone call. I exhaled a sigh of relief and headed up front to take the call.As I reached for the phone,! gave the appointment pad a cursory glance to confirm my freedom. I couldn't believe it. I had a 4:30 perm. No one in her right mind would have her hair done on Christmas Eve. No one would be so inconsiderate.
I glared at the receptionist behind the counter. "How could you do this?"She took a step backward and whispered, "Mrs. Weiman scheduled you . "Mrs. Weiman was the senior instructor,the biddy of the ball. When she spoke,no one argued."Fine," I hissed and turned to the phone. It was Grant. His grandmother had invited me to Christmas Eve dinner, and could I be ready by three o'clock?! fingered the diamond snowflake necklace he had given me the night before. Swallowing the lump in my throat,! explained the situation. After an interminable silence, he said we'd make it another time and hung up. Tears stung my eyes as I slammed the phone down and barricaded myself behind my station.
The afternoon hung bleak and gray, echoing my mood. Most of the other students had gone home. I had no other patrons until the 4:30 perm,and I spent the time at my sta?tion, stewing.
At about 4: 15, Mrs. Weiman stuck her pinched face around my mirror and advised me in her soft, no nonsense tone, "Change your attitude before she gets here, "then qui-etly stepped away.
My mood would change all right,from angry to murder-ous. I grabbed a tissue and whisked away the fresh tears.
My number was called at 4:45. My tardy, inconsiderate patron had arrived. I strode brusquely up front to greet a very shriveled,frail old woman gently supported by her husband. With a tender voice, Mrs. Weiman introduced me to Mrs. Sussman and began escorting her to my station. Mr. Sussman followed us, mumbling his apologies for bringing her in so late.
I was still feeling put upon, but I tried not to show it. Mrs. Weiman cradled Mrs. Sussman closely as she lowered her into my chair. When she began raising the hydraulic chair,! feigned a smile and took over,stepping on the foot pump. Mrs. Sussman was so small,! had to raise the chair to its full height.
I placed a towel and plastic drape around her shoulders, then jumped back,aghast. Lice and mites were crawling over her scalp and shoulders. As I stood there trying not to retch, Mrs. Weiman reappeared,pulling on plastic gloves.
Mrs. Sussman's gray top knot was so matted,we couldn't pull the hairpins out. It disgusted me to think anyone could be so unkempt. Mrs. Weiman explained that we'd have to cut her hair to get the mat out,and Mrs. Sussman just looked at us with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her husband held her hands tenderly in his as he knelt beside the chair.
"Her hair was her pride all of her life," he explained. "She put it up like that on the morning I took her to the nursing home. "
Evidently her hair hadn't been combed or cleaned since that morning nearly a year before. His eyes misted over,and he shuffled to the waiting room.Mrs. Weiman cut the matted top knot gently away,revealing a withered scalp peeling with yellow decay. She worked patiently and lovingly, and I feebly tried to help where I could. A perm would eat through her scalp like acid. It was out of the question. We bathed her scalp gently, trying to dislodge the lice without tearing her hair out. I dabbed antiseptic ointment on her festering sores and twisted her sparse hair into pincurls. The curls were held in place by gel, for we didn't dare scrape her scalp with clips. Then we gently fanned her curls dry near the warmth of the radiator.Mrs. Sussman slipped a palsied hand into her tiny bag and drew out a tube of lipstick and a pair of white lace gloves.Mrs. Weiman dabbed the lipstick softly on her lips, then carefully threaded the shaking hands into the dainty gloves. My thoughts were drawn to my grandmother,who had re-cently passed away—how she always put on lipstick before walking to the mailbox on the curb. I thought of stories she told of her youth,when no proper lady would be seen in pub?lic without her gloves. Tears formed in my eyes as I silently thanked God for having taken her with dignity.Mrs. Weiman left me to sterilize my station and returned with Mr. Sussman. When he saw his wife,their mutual tears flowed unchecked. "Oh, my dear,"he whispered, "you've never looked lovelier. "Her lips trembled in a smileHe reached into his coat pocket and presented Mrs. Weiman and me each with a small nativity set: Joseph,Mary and the baby Jesus. They were small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. I was filled with love for this man and his sweet wife. For perhaps the first time in my life,I knew the true spirit of Christmas.
We walked the Sussmans up front. There would be no fee this night. We wished them a Merry Christmas and saw them outside. It was snowing lightly,the first snowfall of the season. The flakes looked like powdered diamonds. I thought briefly of Grant and the dinner I had missed and knew that on this Christmas Eve,his grandmother would understand.
About the Author
Evidently her hair hadn't been combed Replica Breitling Watchesor cleaned since that morning nearly a year before. His eyes misted over,and he shuffled to the waiting room.Mrs. Weiman cut the matted top knot gently away,revealing a withered scalp peeling withReplica Breitling Watches
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