At some point, traveling with only a carry-on stopped being a matter of convenience and turned into a symbol of superiority. It became a badge of honor — proof that you’re not just a frequent traveler but also a master packer.
I’ve lost track of how many times someone has proudly told me, “Oh, I only travel with a carry-on.” Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always preferred to pack light myself. But after a while, it started to feel less like a choice and more like an expectation. I didn’t want to be the lone travel writer rolling up with a full-sized checked bag, knowing at least one colleague would inevitably make a comment because that’s what the unwritten rules of our profession seem to dictate. And it’s not just a travel-writer thing, either. Scroll through Reddit, and you’ll find entire threads devoted to gloating over carry-on-only travel, as if it’s some kind of competitive sport.
Here’s the thing, though: It does not matter. There’s this performative culture around carry-on travel, but the reality is more nuanced. Checking a bag isn’t some moral failing. There’s no shame in it. In fact, one of the most well-traveled writers I know — someone whose passport stamps put mine to shame — travels exclusively with a check-in-sized suitcase. She’s a chronic overpacker, unapologetic about it and completely unbothered by what anyone thinks.
And she’s not alone. As one Redditor noted, a woman on their tour who bragged about being a carry-on-only “expert” ended up borrowing things from everyone else while still mocking others for overpacking. (So much for superiority.)
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Inside the Great Underwear Packing DebateSometimes checking a bag just makes sense. On a two-week trip through India and Nepal last October, I knew I’d be sweating constantly and wouldn’t have reliable access to laundry. A bigger bag was a nonnegotiable. Other times, I’ve checked luggage simply to leave space for what I planned to bring home — bottles of wine and other souvenirs I didn’t want to cram into an overhead bin. Sometimes it’s as simple as wanting to pack a full-sized sunscreen instead of paying a ridiculous premium for one at the airport or hotel shop.
To be fair, there are plenty of good reasons people cling to their carry-ons. In 2022, U.S. airlines mishandled nearly 2.2 million bags — up from 1.4 million the year prior — as passenger numbers surged back post-pandemic amid widespread staffing shortages. Back then, the idea of parting with my suitcase felt like tempting fate.
Then there’s cost. Unless you have elite status or the right credit card, most major U.S. airlines will hit you with a $35 to $40 fee for a checked bag, while budget carriers can charge as much as $100.
And, of course, there’s the convenience factor. After a 16-hour flight (or even a two-hour one), the last thing I want to do is stand at a baggage carousel watching an endless parade of suitcases go by. I want to get out of the airport and on my way — to my bed, my hotel or wherever I’m headed — as quickly as possible.
I get it. I really do! But whether you’re a proud carry-on devotee or a habitual checker, the truth is there’s no right or wrong way to pack. The only wrong move is pretending your method makes you a better traveler. Unless you’re the weirdo stuffing live animals in their checked bag, you’re probably doing just fine.
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