Fly me to the nuthouse


Airports are so glamorous! So much life; so many people watching people, which is really the root of all glamour.

You must think of the airport this way or else you become a raging, blithering wreck– not a sustainable way to present oneself to the TSA guards.

If unprepared, your airport experience can highlight all the ways in which you have not adjusted well as an adult. The airport requires mastery of the human condition: maneuvering amicably through and around other people.

It’s a little dance I like to call The Stop And Go Waltz. (It is a take on the Hurry Up And Wait Two Step you will undoubtedly perform once at your destination.) Walk a couple eight counts, fast to the front; stop suddenly because the person in front of you stopped suddenly, without warning. Head dive to the left and then to the right to assess the condition. Hop to the right and do another eight steps forward, faster this time. Now reverse step twice to avoid collision with the family diving in front of and perpendicular to you. Eight more steps forward.

Watch out! Rogue child! Initiate spin move!

Coffee helps. Luckily there is a Starbucks every sixteen steps, and what is five dollars for a few ounces of solace in your dance with unwitting partners?

Complete confidence is also required for airport survival. You DID turn off the oven. You DID go to the correct terminal. You DID give yourself enough pep talks about the missing Malaysia plane riding off into the mysterious sunset pain free.

Now, the fact that all your shot nerves coalesced into a massive urge to take a nĂºmero dos as soon as the airplane leaves solid ground? Well, for that you are on your own.

God speed, travelers.

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