I Believe I Can Fly ~ R. Kelly

Sometimes the amount of people in an airport gives me hope that there will be a lovely chance encounter with someone I know.  A cinematic coincidence, if you will.  A romantic notion, I know.  Especially odd considering that I am queen hater of crowds. I am not that fond of people and yet I love scanning the airport for people I know.  I spend all of my time in airports eager with expectation for what I know will be the most charming of run-ins.

In this respect, experience has taught me nothing.


Two fat old racists in the security line drawing a TSA Agent's attention to a young woman who had gone to the front of the security line.  It was abundantly apparent to me that the young woman was some sort of employee, but these two repugnant old jerks clearly only saw her skin color and that she dared get through security in advance of them.  I took extreme pleasure in seeing that they were singled out for the full body scanners and additional screening.   I never knew I could like TSA agents so much.  Definitely not a charming run-in. Instead just a moment of me wishing those two men would behave like the dinosaurs they were and go extinct already.

Sitting next to a woman who, when not getting out of her seat repeatedly, applied hand sanitizer with a fervor and frequency that implied mental instability and/or being under the influence of some substance.  I had the extreme misfortune of accidentally making eye contact with her and spent the rest of the flight listening to her overshare highly personal information.  Highlight: She dated the biggest drug dealer in Kansas City! He is now in prison!

On a flight a few months ago (height of Ebola paranoia thus far), I rested my head against the window.  Little did I know that I had a mannerless oaf of a teenager sitting behind me.  He coughed without covering his mouth.  I felt the full weight of his hot diseased breath hit the back of my neck and my ear.  I spent the rest of the flight twitching in a fit of germaphobic despair.