Overpacked and Accident Bound (Literally)

A Journey Back to My Hometown

By Derek Butler-Jackson | The Accidental Chef

You’d think after 30+ years of life and countless trips—family vacations, work conferences, cruises, long weekends, surprise weddings, and that one very questionable trip to Las Vegas, I would’ve learned how to pack a suitcase like a rational human being.

Nope. Not even close.

Here I am, once again, packing for my trip back home to Accident, Maryland for the 4th of July, and you’d swear I’m preparing for a three-month stint on a remote survival show hosted by RuPaul and Bear Grylls.

I opened my suitcase like it was a Tetris championship: 6 pairs of jeans, 8 pairs of shorts, 3 hoodies, 2 raincoats, flip-flops, hiking boots, dress shoes (just in case someone spontaneously invites me to a backwoods gala), a full pharmacy’s worth of over the counter meds, and enough underwear to survive a personal apocalypse.

Like, truly. I could have a “whoops” moment every single day, including one during a fireworks finale or mid-mac & cheese bite, and I would still have backup undies. Probably even enough to lend to a fellow traveler should they find themselves in an emergency of… patriotic proportions.

You know what else I packed?

A travel steamer. As if the corn-on-the-cob and watermelon in Accident are gonna care whether my shirt is wrinkle-free. Mom and Dad aren’t judging my creases, they’re just happy I came home. And yet, there it is. Wedged in between my fourth pair of sunglasses and a first aid kit I’ve never once opened but continue to bring like I’m the field medic for the Lewis and Clark expedition.

Because you know what? Deep down, I think the overpacking isn’t just me being extra (though, let’s be honest, I am extra). I think it’s me trying to prepare for every possible scenario life might throw my way. Like I can control the chaos with just one more pair of socks.

But here’s the truth: I can’t.

You can bring 17 perfectly coordinated outfits, but still spill ketchup on every white shirt by day two. You can pack six types of sunscreen and still come home looking like a lobster got into a slap fight. You can try to be ready for everything, and life will still throw you a curveball, sometimes a good one, sometimes a wild, messy, totally off-script one.

And yet, we show up. With our chaos. With our overstuffed suitcases and too many snacks. With our hearts wide open and our stretchy pants packed, just in case Mammy made both pies.

That’s what going home is all about. Accident isn’t just a funny little town with a name that sounds like a punchline. It’s where I learned that no matter how much life surprises you, pleasantly or otherwise, you don’t have to be ready for everything. You just have to be there. Show up. Be present. Let the sun hit your face, even if it gives you tan lines shaped like your sunglasses. Let the fireflies dance around you while your cousins set off questionable fireworks from questionable places.

And if all else fails?

At least you’ve got clean underwear.

See you soon, Accident. I’m coming home, overpacked, under-rested, and absolutely ready.

❤️

– Derek, The Accidental Chef (who packs for a trip like he’s leading a FEMA response)