Sorry I’ve been MIA lately. I’ve been a little busy what with taking finals, packing bags, and trying not to blow my brains out as a result of end of semester nerves. Anyway, now that my room is packed up into boxes (a feat which is harder than it sounds… trust me. Right, Raeann?), I’ve taken all my finals with a reasonable chance of passing them (Herbie Handcock was the guy who signed the Declaration of Independence, right?), and made it to the airport (it was touch and go for a while. Seriously, I was stuck on 2nd Ave between 38th and 39th for 20 minutes), I figured I would get back to doing what I do best: writing blogs. I know, my witty remarks are the highlights of your pathetic days so I’m sorry to have left you hanging so long.
Since I am currently sitting in the Minneapolis airport waiting for my flight, listening to the great classical music they insist on blasting, and avoiding the unwanted advances of congressmen from Utah, I thought I would focus my blog on air travel.
-Have you ever noticed that the junk in SkyMall is completely unnecessary and unappealing?... Until you’re 10,000 ft in the air. Then your only question is how you managed to survive without the world’s brightest flashlight or a belt that has a secret compartment to store money. There must be something about being up that high that makes your brain go a little funny because suddenly everything in that catalog looks Ah-mazing. Btw, Mom and Dad, I ordered some artificial topiaries that I think will really help pull your whole landscaping design together. (In all seriousness though, I spent far too much time looking at the “Harry Potter” movie memorabilia to joke about this)
-Have you noticed that time ceases to have meaning in an airport? 20 minutes waiting in line to check baggage is the equivalent of several sun soaked days by the beach while a 10 minute wait to go through security is about the same time as a month long vacation. The only time when time doesn’t move in slow motion is when you are about to miss your flight. Then it likes to jump ahead and go from 8:30 to 9:05 in the blink of an eye.
-If you see a child under the age of 3 who is screaming and crying and think to yourself “geez, I feel bad for the poor bastard that has to sit next to that kid,” you, invariably will be that “poor bastard.” And the child will proceed to cry for the majority of the flight before finally settling in for a nap… as the plane starts its final decent. Call me insensitive, but why can’t we put children in little crates like we do with dogs and cats? You know, just stick them in the baggage hold and then pick them up at baggage claim afterward.
-If you are running late and about to miss your flight, there is an unwritten rule at the airport that anything and everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. If you try to do self-check in, the machine will take forever to find your itinerary. If you have to check a bag, it will be 5 pounds overweight so you will have to dig through it and take out a bunch of crap that now has to be shoved into your already full carry-on. Then you will try to go through security only to realize the entire population of South Dakota (so about 1,000 people) is in line before you and they are all non-English speakers meaning they can’t read the sign that says “remove all metal from pockets”. This of course means it takes 15 trips back and forth through the metal detector before they finally get that last pesky nickel out of their pockets.
-It is also a rule that airports have to be the filthiest places on earth. If you’ve read my previous blog about public restrooms, you know how I feel about people getting their nasty germs everywhere. As far as I’m concerned, airports are just large public restrooms. All kinds of people with varying understandings of personal hygiene eating different types of smelly foods bought from airport vendors (who charge 25 dollars for each undercooked piece of “food”). Along with all of this are the numerous children running around (we’ve already established my feelings on children) and the people who insist on bringing their tiny, barking dogs on the flight. True story: I saw one of these nasty little dogs in the Newark airport throw up on the floor with the owner watching then both walked away just leaving a pile of vomit on the floor (to be fair, being in Newark makes me also want to vomit but I at least clean mine up). Safe to say, airports are filthy places that make me feel there are only two options for surviving them: wearing Hazmat suits at all times or taking an acid shower after leaving them.
I can guarantee there are numerous other things that suck about airports but even recounting this many is giving me PTSD flashbacks (my trips to the Newark airport are my own personal ‘Nam).
And to end on a completely unrelated note, since it’s summer and I’m going to be incredibly busy what with saving lives, teaching swimming lessons, and taking naps, I’m going to post a new blog once a week. Check back every Wednesday for a new insightful and delightful edition of KB Thinks For You.
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