Flying abroad with carry-on only was great. Then I made a rookie error

Remember Blake’s 7, the 1970s BBC TV series about a gang of freedom fighters roaming the galaxy in a stolen spaceship? One episode comes vividly to mind as I stand in a Belgrade hotel packing for my flight home. In that story, anti-hero Avon was trapped in a shuttle craft that would crash unless he jettisoned 70 kilograms from the vessel; when, suddenly, he realised his fellow passenger Vila weighed 73 kilos.

Beware strict luggage weights from budget carriers.

Things aren’t that desperate in the Serbian capital, but I’ve just made my own chilling discovery. In booking flights home, I’ve overlooked the fact that the first leg to Dubai is aboard FlyDubai; and this low-cost carrier has strict cabin luggage rules. To be precise, it allows only seven kilograms, and will be weighing carry-on luggage at check-in, under the threat of hefty fees for excess.

Crisis! I only ever travel with carry-on luggage: in this case a single black backpack that’s been my companion for six weeks from Portugal to Serbia, travelling by train. I could, of course, check the backpack into the hold – but I pride myself on being able to travel without ever hovering by a carousel.

A single black backpack has been my companion for six weeks.Credit: Getty Images

The first step is to understand the extent of the problem. After all, my backpack might weigh in under seven kilograms anyway. Though, after weeks of accumulation of souvenirs and brochures and other random items, I doubt it. Especially since it was over eight kilos when I left Melbourne in the first place.

What I need is a set of hand-held luggage scales, so I head down to reception at my lavish lodgings, Hotel Moskva. This extravagant accommodation, built by a Russian insurance company, was opened in 1908 by Serbia’s King Peter I. Constructed in the decorative Secessionist style, it became an instant Belgrade icon with its smooth-tiled exterior punctuated by floral elements and twin spires.

Belgrade’s Hotel Moskva and that fresco in the lobby.

The recently renovated reception area is framed by a gilt-edged moulded ceiling, next to an enormous painting of a bloke in armour in conference with women in gauzy frocks. Adjacent is the hotel’s cafe, with decor that could have been lifted from a Viennese coffee house at its 19th-century height, festooned with chandeliers and red-velvet upholstery.

This lavish decor is secondary to my practical problem, however, as I make a beeline to the reception desk. Its staff members seamlessly produce scales, I thank them, and dash back to my room to learn the worst: my packed backpack weighs over nine kilograms.

What to do? In that Blake’s 7 episode Avon tried to throw Vila overboard, and I could do worse than to follow his example. So I tip all my luggage onto the bed, and start discarding. The red mist lowers as I embrace my task. Brochures and leaflets? Out! (They’ll be online anyway.) Toothpaste? Gone (I’ll be in Melbourne tomorrow, after all). The cheap toothbrush can go too, and some of the other toiletries. Socks with holes? Out they go! Cheap sunglasses? Gone! Oh, and look at this weighty metal item: nail-clippers. I have more of those at home, so they are gone too.

After this frenzy of chucking, the backpack weighs just below eight kilos. Then I eye my black jacket, with its deep zipped pockets on each side. Into these go my notebooks and Kindle.

Finally the reading on the scales is a feast for my eyes: exactly seven kilograms. When I arrive at airline check-in a few hours later, the agent looks doleful as that same number pops up on his screen. That – if you’ll excuse me – is a weight off my mind. And, incidentally, off my shoulders.

The writer travelled courtesy of Eurail.