shame on me

It's been a long time since I posted. "Time" being the keyword. I've had NONE OF IT.

However, right now I have nothing BUT time! I'm stuck at the Atlanta airport. Due to bad weather I missed my connection and can't get another flight until 10:30 am. Terminal A is a ghost town, so it looks like Terminal C is the place to be. I was just over there and they like, totally have the hottest (a.k.a. "only") restaurant in the whole airport. The line looked like the entrance to Studio 54, circa 1979. But it was worth the wait! It's amazing how delicious a wilted salad and a lukewarm beer can seem when you need it so badly.

The booming voice on the airport intercom just reminded us all to not smoke and make sure make sure we don't leave our bags unattended. Not a problem, since almost everyone is sleeping ON their bags. Why go to a hotel, when you have Samsonite??

There was an intriguing guy in the restaurant earlier. In a nutshell, I'd describe him as "nerdy", but he seemed to deserve more than that mere simple label. He seemed like a nerd you would see in the movies, played by maybe...William H. Macy. For example, unlike most of the men in the restaurant, he ordered a salad and a lemonade, instead of Philly Cheesesteak and beer. He meticulously cut his lettuce into bite sized pieces so as not to smear dressing on the corners of his mouth and he handled the plastic fork like it was fine china. His straw was perched through his cup lid at a perfect 90 degree angle perpendicular to the table, and he sipped at his lemonade almost as meticulously as he cut his lettuce. He sat up straight as an arrow, had his feet crossed at the ankles, and every so often would glance around the room with a look of mild insecurity.

Most interesting of all was his suitcase. It was one of those old hard-sided cases with the spring loaded silver tabs that pop open when you push them in with your thumbs. And like everything else, the case had been placed carefully. By his feet, perfectly parallel to the lines in the tile floor. I imagined that it was filled with unfaded argyle socks and crisp white button up shirts that had been folded as carefully as the ones in the department store. The only thing puzzling about him was his shoes. They were so fashionable they were almost out of place. Everything else about him seem merely functional and classic, with not much regard to fashion...from his hairstyle, to his eyeglasses, to his Dockers.

Sometimes I want so badly to talk to people and find out if there's any reality to the perception, but I always think better of it. It's like when you read a book, and then you see the movie based on the book and you feel cheated because the lead character looks nothing like how you pictured him. For all I know, my restaurant guy could be carrying drugs and body parts in his little suitcase, so isn't it preferable to hang on to the fantasy I created in my mind and enjoy that instead?

On that note, I'm off to the facilities now to freshen up with the complimentary Delta Airlines toiletries kit. Get 'em while they're hot!!