The Airport

For me, the airport still holds some novelty. That's probably because I don't get to go anywhere all that often. I don't even mind showing up early for a flight because it gives me a little time to take it all in.

My absolute favorite part of the airport is hands-down the moving sidewalks. I am not generally a fast person. In the animal world, I would have been one of those poor gazelles that gets caught and eaten by a tiger. But with the moving sidewalk, all that changes. I love to look at the wall as I'm walking down the moving sidewalk and pretend that I am receiving no assistance from the sidewalk. For once in my life, I am fast. Certainly, I am faster than all the crazy people who stand STAND to the right of the moving sidewalk. And I am most certainly faster than those bores who walk on the normal floor next to the moving sidewalk. Obviously, they have no need for speed in their sorry little lives. If I could, I would run down the moving sidewalk because I'm sure that would be the thrill of my life, but I'm pretty sure they might keep me off my flight if I tried that.

The airport is the only place I can think of where you'll find grown men and women racing to pile their belongings into a plastic tray while simultaneously removing their belts and shoes. I have to admit that I don't normally notice the awkwardness of it all when I'm in the midst of it because it is so fast paced. I always find my bin has nearly crept inside the x-ray machine before I get all my junk inside of it. Then, I get a little nervous because here I am on the WRONG side and all my stuff has made it through and some random businessman on the other side may be claiming it as his own. Who I am to tell? I can't see past all the gadgetry to monitor my stuff...which is, of course, the first rule at the airport: Watch your stuff. The lady, I'm sure she's the same one that used to tell time on the telephone when you dialed GRA-NDMA, reminds you to never ever, ever let your bags out of your sight several times an hour over the loudspeaker. Yet, this is exactly what you must do when you go through security. When I finally clear security and am lacing up my shoes on the other end, I have to admit that I feel dirty. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's something about taking off my shoes and belt and jacket in a public place while disobeying the lady over the loudspeaker.

I have some recommendations on how to improve the airport, too. I have noticed that there are not many clocks. Maybe..sometimes...they will stick the time up on the big monitor at the gate telling you what time your flight is supposed to leave (yeah right), but that really does me no good when I'm in the bathroom or waiting in line to buy a magazine. I have come to the conclusion that this is planned so that maybe you'll forget how late your flight is and not complain too much. I would also like the American airports to take a hint from the Mexican airports. Where is my beer stand when I arrive? Where are the throngs of people begging me to let them take me wherever I may want to go. Of course, all that without the heavily armed guards would be a plus.