I squirm in this uncomfortable chair wishing I was anyplace but here. I'm completely bored. I've already looked at all the magazines. I bought some overpriced coffee. I even finished my book.
I am stranded in the threshold of hell. The airport.
Anyone who has had an extended layaway at an airport knows that besides watching planes fly high in the sky and sneaking a smoke in the bathroom, there's not much to keep one occupied. You have to make your own entertainment. Well, you're already stuck here until your flight leaves. Might as well make your time at the airport good by watching all the goons that walk by.
There are three types of people you'll run into at an airport at any given time or location.
1. The Zombie in a Suit:
This is the guy who's here on business and has a million frequent flier miles racked up. He whips out his cell every two seconds. What he's doing on that cellphone to occupy his time is something I don't want to know. He probably knows the pilot by name and has canoodled with several of those perky flight attendants. He's suave and smooth, but way too suave and smooth. Don't let him near your girlfriend or your wallet.
2. The Parent Who's In Way Over Their Head:
Every mommy and daddy wants a vacation for their young ones to remember forever. So they pack up their sippy cups, Mickey Mouse ears and bottles of Advil to embark on a fabulous Disney World trip. What they didn't anticipate was the airport hassle. And that their kids would be a nuisance. To everyone within a twenty mile radius. I've got to give these troopers credit though. I wouldn't even think of totting two twin tornadoes to the airport with me in a million years. This pair get a gold star for having nerves of steel.
3. The Nervous Flier:
I spot one right now. Over there by the toilets. He's got one hand on the Pepto Bismol and the other on the blanket his Nana gave him when he was four. He hates flying and wishes he were anywhere other than here. His face is green and his eyes red from weeping last night. If anyone in this airport needs a hug right now, it's this poor sap. I wonder what traumatizing experience pitted him against flying? Maybe his wife left him for a pilot? Or maybe he saw Cast Away? I make a mental note to slip the guy some vodka on my way to the loo.
Ding. Ding. Finally. My flight is boarding. I step in line behind the Zombie in a Business Suit and am ahead of the Parents Who Are In Way Over Their Heads. Mr. Nervous Flier is approaching and gives me a small grin. I return it. Then his face turns green and he spews chunks all over the ground at my feet.
Note to self: Never give another Nervous Flier vodka before boarding the plane.
Keep your eyes to the skies my friends,
Perfect Vision
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