Flashing Lights

Today I have Baberham Lincoln and international poetry star Anna Claire here to share with you some of her beautiful writing. She’s known me since I was an awkward little baby with a bowl cut, braces and spent an awful lot of time on all fours pretending to be a dalmation. Take it away, lady.

The plane descended and I queued up Kanye’s “Flashing Lights” for the last few minutes of my 12 hour flight to Dubai. The world’s tallest building, the Burj Dubai, loomed in the distance, and everywhere, everywhere, were lights.

As my friend and I stood, exhausted, at the baggage claim, I was horrified to find my luggage missing. After an annoyed exchange with an airport employee, I learned that my bags were in Bangladesh.

Color me pissed. I’d spent weeks shopping for the perfect “Anna in the Middle East” wardrobe, and wasn’t prepared to look anything but fabulous for my first night on the town. I whined to my travel companion, Jen, and she tried her best to calm me. I just couldn’t imagine getting a cocktail at the hotel bar in anything but one of the perfect outfits I’d brought.

I hate that my first feelings on such an adventure were anxiety about fashion. And I’m proud to say I’ve reduced my obsession with having the perfect garb for each and every situation. I’ve come to realize that I lose a portion of the travel/party/day trip experience if I’m too focused on looking the part.

Once, I spent a wad of cash on the perfect canoeing outfit. Canoeing, My friends rocked cut offs and bikini tops. I wore a Columbia button down and brand new sport sandals. Did I feel any more comfortable on the river? Hell, no! Rivers have snakes, and snakes are jerks.

These days, I’m far more relaxed. I haven’t fully abandoned my love of themed dressing, but I feel far less anxiety about it all. With a cruise booked for the end of this month, I’m proud to say I’ve not bought one item of clothing. Instead, I plan to hit the gym and cut back on wine to feel more relaxed poolside.

You know, that first night in Dubai was perfect, even without my cache of clothes. In one photo, I strike a hilarious pose in our hotel room’s bathroom, so thrilled to have finally arrived. In another, I poke my head from the elevator before the doors closed, my finger poised to choose just how high I wanted to go.