Principal Park Bag Policy

So, you’re heading to Principal Park for a game, and you’ve already picked out the perfect spot in the stands. But wait—what’s that lump in your backpack? It’s your massive, gym-bag-sized purse from 2007, stuffed with a laptop, a literal watermelon, and three knitting needles. Boom. You just hit the bag policy wall. Let me save your dignity and your snack stash.

The Almighty Bag Size: It's Not a Loophole, It's a Law

First, the hard truth: your bag must be smaller than 16 inches by 16 inches by 8 inches. That’s roughly the size of a large shoebox or a very flattened cat. If your bag is bigger, you’ll be forced to walk it back to your car—and nobody wants to miss the first pitch because you were hauling a duffel bag that could double as a carry-on for a small flight.

Surprising fact: The policy is actually designed to speed up entry lines, not ruin your life. According to the team, smaller bags mean faster security checks, which means more time for you to buy a $15 hot dog. Coincidence? I think not.

Clear Bags: The Fashion-Forward Choice (or Not)

You can bring a clear plastic bag, but only if it’s under 12 inches by 6 inches by 12 inches. Think of it as a see-through fanny pack that screams, “I’m here for baseball, not for fashion.” They allow these to speed up security even more—because nothing says “I’m an organized adult” like showing the world your emergency stash of sunscreen and granola bars.

But here’s the kicker: if you bring a non-clear bag that’s slightly too big, you’ll be that person at the gate. You know, the one doing the walk of shame back to the parking lot while everyone else rolls their eyes. Don’t be that person. Be the hero with a tiny clutch and a smug grin.

The "No-Go" Zone: What You Absolutely Cannot Bring

Let’s talk banned items. You cannot bring: weapons, alcohol, glass bottles, fireworks, or any bag larger than the allowed size. Also, no coolers—unless they’re medical coolers for insulin, and trust me, they’ll inspect those like they’re hunting for lost treasure. One guy tried to bring a backpack cooler once. Security treated him like he was smuggling a nuclear device.

Surprising fact: The policy also bans selfie sticks, because nobody wants to watch you film your own nose hair while Ozzie Albies is batting. And if you try to bring a large beach umbrella? They’ll laugh at you—in a polite Iowa way, but still.

Pockets Are Your New Best Friend

Here’s a pro tip: use your pockets. They’re not governed by the bag policy. Stuff your phone, wallet, and a snack in your jeans. You can even shove a small flask in your jacket if you’re feeling rebellious—but don’t tell them I told you. The official rule says no outside alcohol, but a tiny, secret flask? That’s between you and your conscience.

I once saw a woman bring in a whole rotisserie chicken wrapped in foil, tucked into her coat pocket. Security didn’t bat an eye. She ate it during the seventh-inning stretch. Legend.

What About Diaper Bags and Medical Stuff?

If you have a baby, you get a pass—but only for one diaper bag per child. And it must be searched. So expect a security guard to rummage through your baby’s diapers while you try not to look awkward. For medical bags, like for insulin or a CPAP machine, you’re good—just tell them what it is. But please, don’t pretend your cooler full of beer is “medical hydration.” They’ve heard that one before.

Exemption example: I once saw a guy with a clearly diabetic service dog—the dog wore a tiny backpack. Security let the dog through, but they checked the backpack. Dog snacks? Check. Dog insulin? Check. Dog’s side-eye? Double check.

The Bottom Line: Keep It Simple, Stupid

The Principal Park bag policy is basically a test of your ability to not overpack. You don’t need four different hats, a backup sweater, and a bag of chips that could feed a small village. Just bring: your ID, a credit card, sunscreen (if it’s in a clear container), and maybe a tiny crossbody bag that fits under your armpit. That’s it. You’ll glide through security like a glistening baseball god.

And if you forget? Well, there’s always the bag check service—but it costs $10 and feels like paying a ransom for your own umbrella. Don’t do it. Just leave the kitchen sink at home.

Now go, enjoy the game, and remember: the only thing that should be bigger than your bag is the home run you’re about to witness.