Scenes From An Airport
The “E” section at the Atlanta must stand for Eeenternational, for flights from all manner of foreign cities arrive here.
I see a gentleman in front of me apparently of Middle Eastern descent carrying a USPS express mail package. This raises serious questions in my mind regarding the efficiency of the Postal Service, if they have resorted to hand carrying mail like a 2010 Pony Express, without the horses. (or maybe with the horses, who knows)
I also see a trendy cashmere-scarf-wearing European individual with a look of ennui on his face so potent even I feel bored. Be grateful you aren’t in Jersey, sir, and have instead landed in one of God’s territories in Georgia.
Also punctuating my amusement is the look on the face of all international travelers upon visiting the “Mickey D’s,” now a piece of world culture and far more familiar than what we call Chinese food. These travelers, expecting the puny portions of their home country’s Golden Arches, seem astonished when the triple layer burger and large fries come out to rock their faces. In that moment of cognizance, the first time traveler realizes why Americans have waistlines the size of Greece’s deficit (sans austerity).
Now, I must return to the digestion of my Qdoba Queso Burrito, which will require both my conscious and subconscious mind to be assimilated.
