Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Airport Musings

This is going to be a stream of consciousness piece written while sitting in Terminal B of Houston’s Bush Intercontinental Airport. Just thought you should know.

Airports are strange places. I do not know if there is anywhere else where you can find so many people who actually have somewhere to be. Every person is moving with a purpose. Well, either that or standing in line or sitting on their fat butts eating overpriced fast food.

I am not sure if it is because it is summer, however the airport seems to be crawling with cuties today. Some are traveling singly and some are traveling in packs.

I should have brought my camera. There is this kid in an Incredibles sweat-suit. He is sitting a couple of tables behind me with the rest of his family, however every once in a while he wanders out into the main flow of traffic while flying his Micro Machines Mellinum Falcon. So far he has almost gotten run over by one of those stealth carts they drive around and he actually ran into a large black lady who was in a wheel chair. Fortunately for both of them she saw that he was not paying attention and he was not moving very fast. To be honest I am not sure if he ever came out of his reverie. I miss being able to concentrate on something to that degree, and in public no less. He was absolutely focused on whatever adventure was taking place in his head to the exclusion of everything else including himself. I miss that, but I actually started this whole thought because I wanted to talk about how silly he looks in the sweat-suit. We’ll ignore the fact that he is wearing a sweat-suit in the middle of July in Houston and just focus on the fact that his choice of apparel proves that what looks good in comics will probably not look good on a real person. And thank god it is a sweat-suit and not tight.

Why is it that I can pick a girl wearing shoes with wedge heels (I think that is what they are called) a mile off? And why are the vast majority of the girls wearing these shoes Hispanic?

From my journal:

Well, my laptop crapped out on me so we’re going to have to go low-tech to continue our adventures in observational stream of consciousness writing.

We’ve got a nun! If only Lapp were here to share this moment. There is nothing like the first nun sighting of the day. She was dressed in all white. About five minutes later we have our first priest come through security. He, of course, is dressed in black from head to toe with the notable exception of his collar. I wonder what the technical name for these collars is.

Over to my right, across the flow if traffic, is a kiosk where you can apply for a Chase/Continental Airlines credit card. The young man who is manning the kiosk is offering free gifts (read t-shirts) to anyone who applies for a card. That has got to be a boring-ass job. The only perk must be the people watching, but even that could be better. I imagine the best people watching in the whole airport would be in the international terminal. Of course that is the newest terminal as well, so the digs are just better in general. The guy pipes up more often when an attractive young lady goes walking by. I wonder if he has ever picked up a girl at the airport.

Right now I am playing a game. I am a spy and I have to avoid detection by the other side, in this case my five traveling companions. I am seated on the outside edge of the food court directly after you go through the security checks. In order to get to the gate for our flight you have to walk right by my table. I am facing the security checkpoint so my face is visible to people as they come through. At least it is when I am not hunched over my journal. I changed clothes after I left work which should make things a bit more challenging for them. So far two of my co-workers have gone by without noticing me, one having stopped about five feet from my table and looked around. I’ll keep you updated on how the game goes. If I win I am totally buying myself the, “What part of ninja don’t you understand?” t-shirt from Goats.com.

Okay, this older gentleman in a Barney-purple shirt sat down a couple of tables away from me. I am completely serious about how purple this shirt is. I mean it is SHOCKINGLY purple. The thing is, it would look fine if it wasn’t so freakin’ tight.

Have you ever noticed how there are always tons of carts driving around the airport but very rarely are there people actually riding them? The people just drive around in circles, like some sort of bizarre shark, crying, “Mind the cart, please.” A cry which almost everyone ignores. It is a sad, kind of lonely sound, like the cry of a single gull.

If the waistband of your pants is so low I can see the beginning of the crease where your legs are attached to your body your pants are FAR too low. Doubly so if you are not past the age of consent. It sort of bugs me how girls are sexualizing themselves so young however I am not going to go off on this rant since I just come off sounding like a pervert. The last thing I am going to say is that the Juicy across the butt has got to end.

Oh well, it is 5:13. Getting close to flight time so I am going to get a drink and head out.

I won the spy game. I even managed to sneak up on my boss.

Tags: Thoughts

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