It started with the $5 hot tamales. I wish I was talking about the delicious Mexican cuisine, but I’m simply not. The cashier asked me how I was doing. I told her, “Great, other than paying $5 for this child-size portion of hot tamales, but hey, desperate times, right?”
I’m not sure why I said that. Any of it, really, but especially that last part. I was, in no way, feeling desperate for hot tamales. Or for anything, truth be told.
I texted a couple friends to come meet me at the airport to play cribbage with me. They all thought it was a joke since I was in Detroit. I wasn’t really joking but I played along. I’d never want my friends to feel any sort of obligation to drive 7 hours to come play a sophisticated folk game with me in an airport. That’d be really darn cool of them, though, if they did.
I found a spot at my gate-which, by the way, I arrived to 3.5 hours early, you know, for good measure and all. I could see the sunset, which was really important to me. The picture window was right next to this place called “be relax.” I feel like I sort of understand the name of the place; they do massages and pedicures and the whatnot. But I couldn’t quite move past the lack of grammar employed in the naming of the store. I almost went there though. To relax. I find my impulsivity meter is greatly enhanced in airports. I’d typically not even think twice about this. I guess I mostly just felt a little weird about the traveling passers-by seeing me in such a state of mental bliss.
So, like I was saying, I claimed my spot, whipped my shoes off (which may have been a little indulgent of me but I was going to be sitting there for a good long while). And I started to people-watch. Airports are, frankly, the prime location for this satisfying recreational activity.
I think this one woman was worried about missing her next flight. The person she traveled with seemed less concerned. Woman number one proceeded to run about 10 feet in front of her traveling companion down the corridor – announcing she’d meet him at the gate. I wondered if she ever realized she never really gained much ground on him.
There are so many other tales I could tell of the people I saw but it’s nothing you’ve never seen before.
I just wanted to say-you never really think you’re the one being watched. But I’ve been told I’m pretty self-aware, so I couldn’t help but recognize that everyone who took a seat near me glanced over at my feet. A couple people even moved. I know my feet were clean, so I chose not to be offended. I sorta wanted to go find those people who moved and challenge their social norms by putting my feet up right next to them, but here’s the thing. I would have simply been indulging my schraaawkward impulses, and I’m working on being less impulsive in airports.
Schraaawkward 