At the airport

So, I'm sitting here at the airport in Minneapolis. There's no internet, so there's a time delay between when I'm writing and when I'll post, but then, isn't there always a delay between when I write and when you read?

Anyway, I've discovered that the airport here is completely smoke-free, so I had to step outside to grab a cigarette, and then go back through security to get back in. It turns out, the security level today is "Orange". I remember when everybody knew what security level it was every day. I also remember not having any clue what any of the security levels meant. Hell, I'm surprised they're still doing it.

People watching at airports is phenomenal. While writing the last paragraph, I saw a Buddhist monk and a Catholic priest. I think I'll try a game like the license plate game; can I find a holy person from every major world religion? Probably not; an orthodox Rabbi would stick out in a crowd, but would an evangelist preacher? How about a Zulu witch doctor? Okay, probably so (on both counts), but there might be some other religions I can't think of right now.

Having been single for way too long, I also notice that the people around here (and Detroit Metro, where I was a couple of hours ago) demonstrate an astounding variety of levels of attractiveness. Maybe I should try to join the mile-high club this trip... Of course, looking at the statistics, I think that won't happen. Not the statistics of people getting lucky in airplanes, mind you- those would probably work in my favor. I'm thinking of the statistics for my personal love life, which are dismal.

Speaking of my depressing life, my parents and I spent a good portion of last night talking about how much it sucks to be me. Dead-end job, dead-end degree, no real prospects for change. They offered little advice, but that didn't stop them from talking. I'm surprised they didn't bring up my receding hairline. I remember coming home once and finding out a family cat had died a month earlier, and no one told me. This time, I was half expecting to find out I'd missed a funeral for one of my siblings.

So why, if these people cause me such pain, am I going back to visit them after only six months of freedom?

Because the places they like to congregate and invite me to are much warmer than Michigan. (C'mon, you know you've dated people for less.)


P.S. After I wrote this entry, I saw an iPod vending machine. Hell's yeah!