From the airports...

(originally written Thursday morning)

So I’m thoroughly convinced that airports (and the people who are found in them) create numerous opportunities for fun and ridicule. People-watching should be considered a job in an airport…hence my joy at the prospect of flying. Today was different for me, though. I was alienated from my Southwest Airlines for the first time since…2003, maybe? The last time I flew something other than Southwest, it was an international flight to Macedonia (western Europe, people) for a mission trip when I was in MC. I know, some of you are thinking…why in the world would you waste time with Southwest, anyway? Well, if I can get to Chicago for $89 one way, I’ll take it in a heartbeat over high-priced assigned seats on bigger planes. But my pension for SW is not the issue today. This trip was purchased and planned for me by two of the greatest people ever, so I’m at the mercy of Delta Airlines.

The assigned seating and “zone” boarding were easy enough to understand, even if the Skycabbie in B’ham was not friendly. (Well, who could really blame him? I didn’t want to be there at 6:00 am either.) Flying to Atlanta from B’ham seems like a pointless trip, considering the flight takes a total of 30 mins in the air and an hour gate to gate, but hence is my current position. The flight was mostly uneventful, but you know I had to record some tidbits of fun for my readers!

I was sitting in an aisle seat about halfway back, and I’m stuck between Gum-Smacking Man to my left, and Happy McSnores-A-Lot on my right with his Ipod blaring. (Too bad Happy looks like he could be the younger brother of the CEO from my company, and made me shudder in true, I-hate-my-job fashion, so the snoring added to my annoyance.) I did empathize with Gum Man, though…it was obvious that he and his wife had never flown before, so their excited nervousness was precious to me. It reminded me of the trip I took with my now mother-in-law before Paul and I got married. She, in her 50-something years, had never flown before, and we were flying to Chicago for one of my bridal showers. I felt like I was herding a five year old as she stared out the window and giggled almost the whole time. (We were on…er, interesting (read: bad) terms at the time, seeing that she didn’t really want me to marry her son… Don’t worry, we’re better now.)

Towards the end of the flight, Gum Man asks me if I fly a lot, and unabashedly, I say yes. I realized later that this probably sounded snobby, but I was in the middle of a page in the book I was reading, it was before 8:00 am my time, and he simply left the conversation hanging so that he could swivel around to see the back of the plane as he had done 50 times prior. There wasn’t much opportunity to say anything else. So the plane lands, and all of a sudden, enter Dumbass on a Cell Phone. We’re taxing on the runway, for maybe 10 mins to find our gate, and he made FIVE CALLS. He was obviously some marketing something because the calls were first to his (I assume) wife, then to his PA (personal assistant) asking her if she was mad at him, and then to three clients, discussing this upcoming weekend. Trust me, I know it seems as if I was eavesdropping, but the entire section we were in could hear him. I understand that there are plenty of people who are smarter and more important than I am, but dude…it’s 8:15 (9:15 in ATL), people are still waking up, and you’re going to blare your business to five different people (or their voicemails) while we’re still on the freaking plane?!? C’MON! Let me clue you in…you’re not that important.

The airport in ATL is a lot like Midway, just a bit bigger. Needless to say, I wasn’t really nervous about being here. (I felt even better about life when Paul said, “And you’re not a dumbass…you’ll read the signs” in response to my wonderings about the airport this morning.) Like I said before, it’s fun to people-watch in places like this. You have typical business travelers (if not in a suit, then Polo shorts/khakis, Polo shirt, and the loafers that are apparently supposed to imply that they have money); families going on or coming back from vacation (cue matching pieces of apparal, maybe a kid on a leash, parents screaming “stay together!” at random); regular travelers like me (laptop, book, magazine, music player of some sort, etc). But then you have the “special ones”…the rock band with their guitars in tow who need special treatment at the check-in counter for their luggage; the thug gangsta who has to be fully decked out in chains and bling with sun glasses on INSIDE the airport; the elderly in wheelchairs or on those stupid, beeping, enlarged golf carts that the airport personnel drive around. The masses bend and sway, changing every couple mins, whether to catch a flight, grab something to eat, or lollygag as I’m trying to walk behind them. The gates are full or empty, depending on the flight time, and you can watch the TSA agents (most of the time) doing what needs to be done.

However, all of it reminds me that airport WiFi sucks (which is why I’ve typed this up in Word first), I desperately need an Ipod, and I still have two hours to sit here for my next flight. Awesome.