My Day in the Airport

So I'm currently in Charlotte, NC waiting on my flight to get here. I figured now would be as good a time as any to sit down and relax a bit, maybe even reflect a little on my past week. As I start this recollection, I can't help but think that I should probably blog some of the events of this week, which has proven to have a very odd-ball start, but will prayerful turn out to have a pretty good ending.

So the first thing that comes to mind is that I'm struggling to find a power outlet to plug my laptop in. This airport sucks when it comes to that. I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt to the fact that these things (airports) were probably constructed back in the day before laptops were major items and definitely before consultants dominated a significant chunk of airport traffic. Luckily I've found one...but we'll come back to this point a bit later.

So this past Monday, I start my normal travel routine: my alarm goes off at 4a.m., and I'm in the shower getting ready so I can leave and head to the airport between 5:15 and 5:30a.m. I'm doing better this week than I did last week 'cause (1) I didn't oversleep and (2) I packed up and was ready to go the night before. I normally pack the clothes I need for the week (obviously) as well as a pair of gym clothes 'cause I'm trying to make sure that UAintNevaLied doesn't have to roll me out of the house. So I lock up, jump in the car and hit the road and then it starts...

Strike 1. I suddenly remembered that I left my gym shoes at home. So I can't very well get my workout on in a pair of dress shoes, and going barefoot on the treadmill isn't going to cut it. So no major workouts like that taking place this week. Which, consequently, means that I've got to eat like a bird this week to compensate for the lack of the cardio.

Strike 2. On the way to the airport (remember, this is 5a.m. and I start boarding at 6:30), I hear what I think is something hitting my car as I travel 70mph (yes, dear, I was doing 70!), so I pass it over as nothing and keep on going. When I'm about half a mile away from the parking location, I start hearing a puffing noise, and I'm assuming it's my muffler. Notice I say assume. When I come to a start and to idle, I don't hear it any more, but when I go in gear and start taking off, there it is again...so now, my concern grows greater, and as soon as I get into my parking spot and get out of the car, there's my tire...flat as hell!! Do I have AAA (that's Triple A for those of you who don't know)? Yes, I do. Do I have time to call them and have them come fix it? No...

Now let me take a brief moment to clarify something. Yes, I know I am a grown man and a grown man should be able to fix his own tire, or at least change it if need be. I can do that, BUT DAMNIT, I'M PAYING FOR THE SERVICE...so I want my money's worth. You feel the same, trust me.

...I don't have time to call them because I need to get into the airport and make my flight. The car is parked and isn't going anywhere, so I'm expecting it to be right there when I get back.

Strike 3. To add to the misery, when we get on the plane and get in the air, it becomes quite clear that someone is funky as hell. I'm talking the kind of funk that makes you have to put in eyedrops because your cornea is burning. But to give you an accurate account of how funky...you know how there's usually a stewardess (or steward) that sits at the back of the plane to service the guests back there. She got up, covered her nose, and sat at the front of the plane the whole time next to another passenger. DA-YUM!! And of course, I'm back there clawing at the hatch that releases the oxygen, with absolutely no luck.

Strike 4. I'd think things would get better considering I've already struck out. Not. Before I give strike four, I will admit that my work week wasn't all to bad. Considering that I had a few items to play catch-up on, I was still at least able to put up two blogs this week, get a new lens for me camera (see previous blog) and just enjoy the fact that I've been blessed with peace. I got a call regarding some craziness on Wednesday night, but that doesn't count. All in all, a good work week.

HOWEVER, once I get to the airport, where I am now, I realize that I'm being checked out on the sly. Now keep in mind, I've found a hole to crawl into to get to a power cord. Some dude, who's hair is done up like a freakin' sunflower, from another country, wearing a ring with two hearts on it (yes, you can probably guess where I'm going with this), and that has on blush (yes...blush), has decided that he's going to come charge his phone. I don't have a problem with this, really I don't. However, slick here decides to "gracefully" slide down across from me and - thinking that I can't see him peripherally - begins signaling his "friends" that he's close to me and looking me up and down...so much so that he extends his "hearty" hand as if to see if I'd acknowledge and reciprocate his gesture.

Negative, Ghost Rider...the pattern is full!! (from Top Gun...good movie)

I don't say anything. I've put myself in such focus to my computer screen it isn't funny. I'm probably going to need glasses I've got this screen so close to my face right now. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against anyone's sexual preferences...but damnit don't sit next to me smelling like you dove head first into Chanel No. 1-5 and are grinin' like you don't know what to do with yourself. Knowing my luck this week though, I'll probably end up right next to him on the plane. Hell, I'll pay the $50 to go to first class in that case!!

Strike 5: I still have to fix this flat tire after I land.

Man, I never knew it was possible to have 5 strikes in one inning. And to think...I still have two days left in this week.