At the Airport...talkin' 'bout the airport...
At the airport I noticed something absolutely horrific. Well I guess I noticed two things but that one man perpetrated them leads me to remember them as one.
I was sitting reading a Herman Hesse book trying to find the inner-me when this fat pimple of a human being started to blather on to his fellow cohorts about his job, his wife, his money, his kids, his ass hair and other various items that he could not possibly keep to himself. This man talked to the two skinny Irish gentleman so much that it became appallingly evident that he was everything I feared about my life.
Herman Hesse once said, and I'm paraphrasing, "The things we hate about other people are the things that we hate about ourselves." I somehow saw myself in this man. I saw myself blathering away time after time making people around me feel uncomfortable and agitated. I saw myself acting as though I had something to say but instead simply mouthing the words that no one wanted to hear.
This wretched waste of a human being and his fat equally obnoxious wife had gotten to me. I wanted to punch him in his throat. I wanted to take a potato pancake and shove it up his nose until it took the place of his fucking eyes. I hated this human being more than anything in my entire life. But, the sad truth still remained that what I hated about him was actually in my life. The phoniness was there. The on stage mentality that this man so eagerly let drip from his fat hairy chest was also, at time, evident in me.
I became so enraged that I went to the bathroom to wash my face. Upon entering the bathroom I noticed that my shirt was on inside out. I laughed at myself. Thought about keeping it like that all day. Thought about the things people must have thought this morning as they watched me walk through security. I laughed and turned my shirt right side in.
As I walked back out the plane was boarding for San Antonio. The fat cow assed people and the beauty queens that live in the south never cease to amaze me. They waddle or they strut. Their breed is odd as it allows for total racism yet country charm to boot. It's a strange lot. On the plane however a new and somewhat disturbing trend has superceded anyone's cultural make-up. The plane culture immediately takes into effect. The culture that is deemed appropriate in the epic battle of, what I like to call, "Don't sit next to me Motherfucker!"
First off, people begin lining up for the plane an hour (that's right an hour) before the boarding begins. It's usually the business men who fly all the time and would have their entire lives ruined if they don't get the first row aisle seat. They stand at the front of the line looking more and more agitated every second. The next thing you will notice are the cell phone yellers that always have to make one last call to the office about a conference call or package to be delivered. It must be imperative that they make this call because they speak loud enough and repeat everything so many times that everyone in the terminal could do the job of the lackey they are calling on the other end. This call also usually ends with their new customized voicemail being set -
"Hi, this is Helen Hoolihan, I won't be in the office for the next three days so you can reach my lackey at extension 1234gofuckyourself. Have a great week!"
As the loading of the plane starts the real scariness of the plane culture takes over. You see the plane culture overwriting everyones culture. You could be a goat herder from Bangladesh or a Wall Street executive, it makes no difference because if you board the plane before everyone else, your job is to immediately stake our territory.
Hurry, place your bag on the seat next to you just in case all 100 people waiting in line in back of you decide to nicely fill in the remaining seats like water into a glass and somehow forget that there are two seats next to you. Be careful not to make eye contact for that is the first step to an invitation for someone else to possibly sit down in the magic row. You also want to look important...so look at that watch 40 times and guff repeatedly. If travleing with a friend of colleague be sure to talk REALLY FUCKING LOUD ABOUT TEXTILES IN THE MIDWEST!
It's a sick world on an airplane...a sick world...not to mention the plastic stewardesses, horribly drunk sounding pilot, and 2 square feet of room you have to try and sleep inside of....
What shocked me was the embodiement of two horrible atmospeheres (pre, and plane ride) embodied in this man. I hope he learns to look at someone like people look at him. Well..then again he probably already does.
I'll have more on my return...