I arrived at the airport nearly two hours before my flight. My buddy was kind enough to share some fresh harvest on the ride over. Airports. These god damn places embody more stress than waiting on an AIDS test after an exciting trip to the Philippines. I gave a pound of flesh for a quart of water. I can get a gallon for 37 cents. A quart at the airport cost $3.97. I gave her a $5. She smiled. She gave me a dollar and 3 cents. I glared.
I got my bags checked by a lovely young computer named Terminal 2 and headed for my gate. Flight delayed. That's convenient. Especially when my arrival time and boarding time at my layover are less than 30 minutes apart. No cigarette for me today. Time to board the plane. We get three or four steps through the hatch when the fearless leader of our boarding group, henceforth to be referred to as Group 12^4, stopped at the first stewardess she saw and said in the most painfully cancer causing voice, "Is this flight going to land on time? Because I know it's running late and I've got a connection with a very short layover. I need to know that I'm going to make it on time." The stewardess reassures her that children's laughter and marshmallow sprinkles will overcome all evil of delayed flights and missed connections. The woman smiles and continues her journey to the back of the plane.
But a chord must have been struck deep inside because, though the answer satisfied for a moment, the young woman was overcome by fear once again. She stops in the middle of the aisle, turns to the stewardess behind her and says, "You're sure I'm going to make my connection? I just can't miss my ne--." I couldn't take it anymore. "Look lady, no one can guarantee you making your next flight. Hell, we might just crash on the way to Houston. And at this point I think it's the only thing that will get your voice out of our collective heads. Now, whether or not you make that connection is irrelevant as you are already on this plane. But if it so appeases you to manufacture the drama, how about you step into a row and let your fellow travelers standing here with heavy bags listening to your incessant bullshit pass by and get comfortable. I would assume the time we take off is directly related to the moment all the passengers have boarded." She glared. I glared. She asked what appeases means. I laughed.