AT3

This is part fact part fiction... just plain rambling

The frat boys in the airport grab for the tribune and the post like it's going to provide some level of wisdom greater than a book or a person could ever expunge. When they get on the plane they groan to find out that the flight has free copies. They outline, they draw, they highlight, they've got their sports bets ready. Ready to throw their money out of the wallets on the "statistical best" choice.

Me, I travel light, and for fun. If I were going to a new place, why would stay in a stuffy room cramped with people who are lucid (barely) and happy (barely) to be wasting their money on gambling.

Stewardess. You learn to close your eyes a lot when you are facing passengers in your seat. The fact that you've been awake for seventy two hours straight has not contributed to your eye strain. It's the people, the questions, the food, the kids. The altitude. When is the last time you knew you were going to be to work at 8 and get off at 4? When is the last time you were on the ground for more than a week.

It is proof perfect that a company is represented at all times by the smallest employee. One person can create a relationship with a customer that sells your company for life. One person can ruin it. The problem therein is that those two people can each do each other's job. Sally makes the day, but Bob ruins it. Therefore Bob's poor efforts to please a client cancel out Sally's success with the same client.

nf 2

There is a woman hanging around the toilets using her cell phone. It smells bad, has she lost smell, waiting for someone or just incredibly polite to the point where she won't talk in front of others?

In the bathroom I notice one of the urinals has a hair on top of it. Upon further inspection I come to realize that, not a hair, but a thread from someone's clothing a thread. Someone got intimate with the toilet so much so that their clothing became entangled with a part of the receptacle. I throw up into the urinal.

non fiction? wtf is that?

Standing in line for the security check--in, I am shocked awake by a parent that finally knows how to discipline their child. She is wailing, literally, as if someone were about to take away her life, chucked like some empty shell of a peanut onto the floor of so many other happy lives.
"I don't care," he says, forcefully but not angrily, "I want you to stop." And as if the child understands this desire it nearly immediately abandons all purpose, resumes a plain but now somewhat flushed pudgy faced girl.
I wanted to reach out to him, I wanted to thank him... to somehow yell and scream and shout until he agreed to become a prophet to the masses. "Please sir, please teach others. Please guide them on the shaky road of parenting.

Sitting in an airport terminal. I can't believe I need a boarding pass for this. The "people-watching" as I call it is worth thousands of dollars alone. I want a camera in my brain to capture images of the faces of longing. The faces of determined people, determined to get there, determined to be there, determined to be confused as hell.

The last words a coworker said to me were "Think of Christ and what He (carefully capitalizing his chat text) did for you on the cross." He then went into something about how I might die or the plane might crash... bastard. My wife reads it starts crying. Thanks a lot dude.

There's a child wandering in the concourse now, a mother knowingly picks it up and says "Whose child is this?" Fricken christmas songs. The father comes forward, thankfully the child is cute, everyone smiles instead of cringing.œ