Packing for a trip is an art. Like editing an essay, you need to choose what to leave in and what to leave out. My track bike is a must. So are my low-rise socks and heavy-duty locks. What else? An acceptable pair of riding pants, which double as social pants. $18 for some CNC bar end plugs. One small philosophy book to remind myself who I am, or perhaps give away to the right person. (The Foundations of Arithmetic by Frege comes to mind.) I need one copy of the paper I am going to read in Iowa, and a t-shirt sufficient to signal my youthful presence at the conference. Perhaps I should bring some chewing gum? No. I have to leave it behind. Space is tight. Everything has to fit in the red Europe Bound backpack I borrowed from Jamie Reynolds many years ago. I shall definitely bring my olive-coloured retainer; it takes up hardly any space. Even if it did, I would make room. My teeth are important to me.

No underwear?
Four t-shirts!
No shampoo.
One electric razor!
One toothbrush?

That seems like all I can bring. But no matter. My strength is my wit, and that takes up hardly any space at all.

I almost forgot. I need the right phone numbers, email addresses and identifying information. There are some people I seriously need to see.