Actually, it IS Rocket Science



What I observed on my summer vacation

So yeah, you may have noticed I’ve been shirking my responsibilities here for the past several weeks.  I’ve been shirking a lot of things around here lately.  The dishes haven’t been washed, the baby severely needs changing, and there’s a smell so god-awful coming from the trash can that I’m contemplating just throwing a lit peach-mango-formaldehyde scented candle into the thing and starting fresh with a new receptacle.  But I’ve got a good reason for it.

I only had three and a half weeks off between the end of one grueling semester and the beginning of a new one.  And I thought I’d use that time by doing what my father lovingly refers to as “fiddle-farting around,” especially anywhere but somewhere that kept me on the computer for longer than an hour at a time.

It’s been tough on you guys, I know.  It’s been tough on all of us.  We’re gonna make it through this together, though.

Oh no.  You’re doing that thing.  You’re giving me that look our family cat always gave us when we came home from our annual summer trip to North Carolina.  That contemptuous fuck-off-if-you-think-I’m-going-to-let-you-back-into-my-life look.  Please don’t take a crap on the new carpet just to prove a point.  I get it.  I do.  I’m going to try not to leave you again.

You’re just lucky I didn’t board your ass.  Think about that.

While I was off I got into a couple of really great things.  But I feel that if I try explaining them to you it will turn into a stuffy slide show hour wherein you all contemplate how long it will be before your highballs get refilled and how this Long Island could use a bit (read: a LOT) more gin and goddammit what is with the maraschino cherry?  We’re not really in the 50’s anymore; booze alone would suffice.

What I will share with you is the absolute alterna-universe that I have discovered and you may have also had the opportunity to stumble upon in your life travels.  I’m speaking, of course, about the world devoid of logic that you enter into once you pass through the sliding doors of an airport.

This is a picture of the Wall Street Floor. This is not a mistake. It's actually quite fairly comparable.

This is in no way intended as a dig to airports themselves or their employees therein, I’d just like to make that clear.  Those people deserve a medal, because they have to live their professional lives knowing that they are about to encounter asshole after deranged lunatic all. damn. day.  Because something happens to people when they enter airports.  A sociological virus capable of mind control enters each traveler’s brain and changes them from a contributing member of society to a drooling Jersey Shore cast member hell-bent on jockeying for front-of-the-line status, and goddammit if they’re not going to let the world know about their most recent plight in their battle against healthcare, the stock market drop, whathaveyou in attempt to either A) make you commiserate with them about their poor, terrible lives (even if they can afford the extra couple hundred bucks to soar through the sky), or B) knock you into such annoyance-driven oblivion that you don’t even notice that they’ve rolled their oversized carry-on right past your own luggage.

Once you’ve passed through the gates of Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here security, you are ushered into a world of maniacal nonsense, driven by the multiple ass-hats behind you who are suddenly super-pissed that you have somehow managed to waste their previous 5 seconds while you try to jam your laptop back into your bag and shove your shoes back on in a fevered pace.

Once you’re out in the wilds of the various gates that you must navigate through to find where you’re going, you may be tempted to breathe a sigh of relief that the worst is behind you.  DON’T!  It’s a trap!!  Because (and this is very important, friends) as soon as you let your guard down, someone will inevitably walk right into you because they weren’t paying attention while tweeting how excited they are to finally be on their way to Can-Koooooooon!  Hollaaaaaa!  Vigilance is key.  Even if you are lucky enough to evade the beast with no eyes, you could still find yourself in the direct trajectory of the most helpful/dangerous device employed by select airport employees.  I’m talking about “The Cart.”  As in:

“…cart, please.  excuse …cart.  excuse … Please.  Please Excuse…

EXCUSE THE CART, PLEASE.”

By the time you hear the full statement, it’s already too late.  Those are silent vectors of evil, and they’re filled with malicious knife-wielding clowns of death.  With flame-throwers.  And they all have PMDD …And ‘roid rage.  In fact, if left to their own devices, they’d go all Grand Theft Auto on you without a second thought.  Just another reason why the dutiful employees of the universal airport should have a plaque made in their honor.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, what I’m breaking this down to is the fact that once you’ve entered the lower intestines of the beast, that’s it.  You’re on your own, friend. And when you thought you had made it through the fun part of security, then you get shoved into an area that is a hyperbolic rendition of Lord of the Flies.  And you’re Piggy.

Here’s something: when I was about 10 years old I was sitting at my gate when I looked up from my Gameboy to see an old man who was casually making his way to his respective destination walk right under a fluorescent light cover that just *ploom* fell on his head.  Fell right the shit on his head.  Like, the kind of crap you watched Bob Saget make silly sounds to on America’s Funniest Home Videos to direct your attention away from the fact that he truly just experienced a possibly severe head injury.  What’s worse is that I proceeded to watch multiple people walk right past him; people who had been walking behind him and watched it happen, yet chose to ignore the event.  Some even acted pissed off that he was getting in their way.

No?  Not enough?  Okay.  Since we’re being honest.  Somehow, somewhere in my twenties, I have become a pretty big asshole.  I have.  Which means that everything I’m talking about right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if I have been that person before, myself.  Like I explained earlier; it’s a virus.  You can’t help getting sick from time to time.  A couple of years ago it happened when I woke up at around 4am to catch a flight and all I wanted was a goddam cup of coffee.  Just a fucking. cup. of. jesus-licking. coffee. And I stood in line, like a decent line-stander-inner.  Which was when some dumb girl totally pulled the I’m-on-the-phone-too-super-busy-Oh!-did-I-just-completely-cut-in-front-of-you?-My-bad-I’ve-got-kids-that-want-rice-krispies move.  And the expert that she was stayed on the phone so that I couldn’t point out to her that she had in fact completely thrown herself in front of me.  How convenient.

But I, too, was in the middle of something at the time.  The middle of something I was in was placing my gum into a napkin so that my coffee wouldn’t taste mentholated.  And she was obviously distracted by the riveting phone conversation she seemed to be having at 6:30 am (which was about clothing.  Let me repeat that:  a conversation at 6:30 am about CLOTHING).  And it just so happened that one of her carry-on’s was a giant open purse.  And, you know, it was within arm’s reach.

So I made sure not to discard my trash on the ground.

Oh, cut it.  It was wrapped in a napkin.  Like a little Christmas present in July.  The weird thing was I felt more upset about it than anything because I realized she would probably blame it on the kids after she finally discovered it.

_________

People on standby don’t really get that they’re on standby a lot of times.  They’re like what I would imagine people who have died and refuse to admit it and become ghosts do like in Beetlejuice.  They think it’s a sure thing.  And they looooove to check in with the announcers.  Every 10 minutes.  I have a family that is so awesomely wired in that they know when I’m on standby and when I’ve gotten a seat- even before I board.  They gave me a crash course in patience when I was going up to visit them on standby most recently:

“Just wait.”

That’s it.  See how simple that is??  Just… you know… wait.  Don’t get bent outta shape or demand reparations.  Just chill the hell out and see what happens.  Worst case scenario, you book a hotel.  You get a free breakfast better than whatever you’d probably make for yourself and you don’t have to worry about making your bed the next morning.  AND EVERYBODY WINS.

________

My word count is getting dangerously close to that magic number that tells me I’m bordering on TL;DR.  If you’ve made it this far, good job; you’ve beat the system of 140 character limits and Facebook updates which limit you to about three simplistic sentences.

I’m back.  Grad school year 2; I’m all in.

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Comments

  1. * Sula says:

    Reading your blog is like watching short movie…One at which I laugh my ass off…and mostly b/c I’ve had similar thoughts/experiences and never had the guts (or writing ability) to confess them in a public forum. Thanks for transforming the ordinary daily-ness of life into extra-ordinary!! 🙂
    Love you! Good luck with Semester #2… Go get ’em!

    | Reply Posted 5 years, 11 months ago
    • Sula-soo, you always say the funniest and nicest things. I’m so glad to have you around. 🙂

      | Reply Posted 5 years, 11 months ago
  2. * kimbelly says:

    between Dad and his fiddle-farting around and the look from the cat, I’m dead. Just dead.
    Oh AND I’m headed to the airport tomorrow so good luck to me…

    agh!

    | Reply Posted 5 years, 11 months ago


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