I’m traveling and delayed in some random airport in the Southwest. A lot of weird stuff gets said in airport bars. Snottiest thing said today,
"All of SF could use some lipstick, a pushup bra, and a pair of heels"
And most silly,
[16:46] shabbirjsafdar: Greetings from the Phoenix airport!
[16:47] ksacksteder: greetings from houston!
[16:47] ksacksteder: we are closer than normal!
My best poker buddy and I haven’t seen each other since I became bi-coastal, and it’s both our faults. She travels like a fiend, and I’m learning to love the airplane seat.
So I’ve been burning through random music with my AWESOME all-you-can-eat $15/month Rhapsody subscription. I’ve both found some and picked up some that friends have recommended, including the Besnard Lakes, Mercury Rev, some old Abbey Lincoln, The Soul Children, and Handsome Boy Modeling School. A side project now all but defunct, Handsome Boy Modeling School is a bright find for me. It’s old school because it’s one of the producers from De La Soul so in a way it’s….actually old.
In San Jose I cursed the gate agent who gave me an aisle seat in a row that didn’t recline (in front of the exit row) only to praise her when I discovered my row was entirely empty. By the time I got to Arizona (Heh, Chuck D!) my Business Traveler Zen was in full effect. Detachment is a funny thing. You are removed from the good and the bad.
I walked up to my new gate amidst frowns. Ah, our plane is hours delayed. "Can you bump me? Perhaps force me to stay the night in this desert rathole?" Oh I don’t care that we’re delayed.
I sit down in the bar, ordering tequila that I never drink (to keep the waitresses happy) and sipping Cokes that go better with my antibiotics. I play $5 sit-n-go poker tournaments on Poker Stars while I wait for US Airways to fix my plane. I surf the web. I research new markets for my company.
I could care less if I ever go to DC, ever go home. I am just here.
Hey that row of benches might make a couch bed…