The Airport is No Place for Dignity or Self-Respect

When I’m at the airport and I see a person sprint passed me with their luggage, my first thought is to how ridiculous that person looks. I’m almost embarrassed for them. Yesterday I got to step into their shoes.

When I arrived at the airport, I knew I was early for my flight. I causally strolled to the kiosk to print out my ticket, opening doors for people on my way and acting like I didn’t have a care in the world. The kiosk didn’t pull my ticket up, so I waited patiently in line and finally spoke with the representative at the desk. She verified my flight information and then kindly notified me that I had showed up to the wrong airport.

The next hour was kind of a blur. I remember something about sprinting to my car with no regard for people in my way, driving in super slow traffic, cutting in line at the new airport, and scampering around from check-in to security and back over and over again with some Chinese guy to get on the flight. After running in circles and ringing the buzzer at the desk for at least the fifth time (since everyone at check-in had already left for the gate), a representative from another airline finally told me to stop ringing the buzzer because it was annoying the people around me. It finally sank in that I had missed my flight, and I became composed and relaxed once again. I rescheduled my flight and headed for the exit.As I was leaving the airport to go home, I saw some guy dashing in to catch his flight with no regard for his appearance or for the concept of lines since he obviously had no problem cutting in front of other people. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. What an idiot.

Flying the Smelly Skies

When I fly, I always try to get an aisle seat. It keeps me from feeling claustrophobic, allows me to stretch my leg into the aisle, and also enables me to get up and use the restroom without having to wake anyone up.

Over Memorial Day weekend, I visited some friends in Austin. During the flight that took me from Orange County airport to Dallas (a 3-hour flight), I chose the final remaining aisle seat, since all the others available seating options were middle seats and I figured that the aisle would still be better even though it was the very back row. It turns out that having a seat in the bathroom would have been better. Throughout the flight, people were lined up to use the bathroom situated right behind my seat. Not only did I have someone’s butt hanging over my seat the majority of the time, I got a delightfully potent whiff every time someone finished using the commode and opened the door. By the time I landed I felt like I needed a shower.

(repost from May 15, 2007)

Hooray for Nudity

Today at the gym I had just finished working out my chicken legs and entered the men's locker room/bathroom to wash my hands and weigh myself on the scale, as I do at the end of every workout. As I entered the bathroom, I couldn't help but notice a naked obstruction in my pathway to the sink. Not only was this obstacle in my way, he was standing very confidently in front of the mirror combing his hair, apparently very comfortable with his nudeness. In order to make it all the way to the sink, I had to go way out of the way so as to not accidentally brush up against him. Eventually I was able to reach my destination unscathed, but it was still very traumatic.

I understand that it is a men's locker room, and as such it is necessary for people from time to time to change clothes. However, when I have to get naked in a locker room, I am very aware of my nudeness the whole time. It's take the shorts off, grab the new pair, and put the new pair on as quick as possible. I sometimes try to set records in my head to see how fast I can do it. So I just don't understand these guys that take off all of their clothes and then read the paper, comb their hair, talk on their cellphone, or do ANYTHING besides changing.

(repost from May 27, 2007)

Superman to the Rescue

Yesterday the fire alarm in our building went off, so we all marched down the steps and out into the front outside area of the building. I was walking next to a girl that I work with. Once outside, the girl I was with was caught her high heels on a step and started to tumble. I, being in the best position to catch her, heroically reached out my arms to stop her from falling. In the split second that followed, I noticed that my arms were positioned just right to grab her chest. Without thinking, I instinctively pulled my hands back. I ended up grabbing part of her arm as she sprawled awkwardly to the concrete below. Her knee started bleeding, so I bravely ran into the building with sirens blazing all around me to get some paper towels and a band-aid to stop the bleeding. She thanked me later for the band-aid. Another victory for this superhero!

(repost from May 31, 2007)

Bore-aholics Anonymous

The other day I happened upon a conversation between two women discussing the new books they were reading. One of them was reading a book called 'Maneater', which is an exciting tale of a woman who wants to marry a rich guy so she can have all the money in the world, but is conflicted because she has been caught up in the business world trying to work her way to the top which doesn’t allow her enough time to date and have a social life. As my eyes began to glaze over I determined that that had to be the most painfully dull book ever written. There was no way any book could possibly be worse.

Apparently I was wrong.


It turns out these women had just finished a series of books called the 'Shopaholic' series. It's not one book, but a series of books about a woman who justifies all the shopping she does and the purchases she makes. For me, just the thought of going shopping sends painful shocks through my system. The only thing I can possibly think of that could be worse is reading a book about someone else who is going shopping. I'll be picking this book up next week.

(repost)