When you're duking it out with the spirit world, you have to make sure that your equipment is in working order. If your positron collider gets mangled, there's always the possibility of a trans-dimensional rift. With the safety of the universe as my primary objective, I put a bunch of stickers on this bin from Wal-Mart:
The "No-Ghost" logo is custom-sized.
Note the wheels and handle. This thing should be a breeze to take through the airport! (This is where I hope my sarcasm translates through the ether.)
This bin already survived a cross-country journey after a misfortune befell my proton pack, and it had to be shipped out for repair. The incident, prompted by a strap breaking, resulted in fast contact with stationary pavement. A chunk of the pack splintered off, and a dial got damaged. It was one of those events that plays out in slow-motion; your brain struggling to process data quickly enough for you to do anything but stand there and watch in horror. Immediately afterward, I was hoping to wake up. If there is a good side to all of this, it's that it didn't happen at a convention, or some other event that would have been significantly less fun without a snazzy getup.
There was an unexpected bonus to the (shockingly expensive) mailing: The excursion gave the tote a good chunk of patina. (I waited to get it back before applying the "danger" and radioactive symbol decals. Contrary to popular belief, my IQ does exceed ten.) As it was doubtlessly manhandled by dozens of disgruntled couriers, I'm certain that the vessel can handle road trips to conventions. It'll be riding in style in the back seat of "The Silver Bullet," my powerhouse 2003 Saturn Ion. Don't be jealous.
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