One of my favorite science fiction and comedic series is the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. Here is what the Hitchhiker's Guide has to say about towels...
A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar
hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap
it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta;
you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V,
inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars
which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a
miniraft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand
combat; wrap it around you head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the
gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid
animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you--daft as a
brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as
a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it it it still
seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some
reason, if a strag (strag means a non-hitchhiker) discovers that a
hitchhiker has a towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is
also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits,
flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space
suit, etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker
any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might have
"accidentally" lost. What the strag will think is that any man who can
hitch the length and breadth of the Galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle
against terrible odds, win through and still know where his towel is, is
clearly a man to be reckoned with.