Gate B18

Hurry, flowered shirt woman! Hurry! If you run slower, you might miss your plane like I missed mine! Don’t worry about your hair…no one is looking at your hair because they’re too preoccupied with the ginormous shocking pink flowers splashed all over your shirt.

Oops, don’t run over that kid, flowered shirt woman! I know he’s totally mucking up the moving walkway by executing a poor imitation of Michael Jackon’s moonwalk. Of course he’s standing right in the middle, too. He just wants everyone to pay attention to him. Don’t take it personally, flowered shirt woman. He looks to be about in middle school, and I know a lot about that age. They’re pretty much all idiots. If the worst he’s doing is moonwalking on the moving walkway, his parents will probably call it a good day. Goodbye, flowered shirt woman! I hope you make your flight!

Oh, hello reader. I didn’t see you there. I’m too busy watching the insanity that is the Chicago Midway airport. As I sit on this very uncomfortable stool at a “charging station,” I see a plane taking off into the distance and flying into the sunset. Is that the plane I was supposed to be on? Probably not, but you never really know. It could be.

See, what I want to do is go home to Las Vegas to see my husband, my puppy (who turns 1 year old tomorrow!), and even my cranky cat. That’s not what I get to do, though. What I get to do is sit here and pray that the next flight to Vegas out of Chicago (which leaves in three hours) doesn’t get cancelled. I’m flying home from visiting my grandma in New Hampshire. The plane from New Hampshire to Chicago was delayed, and I missed my connecting flight by ten measly minutes! TEN! I should be on a plane right now, sipping complementary Sprite and dreaming of the happy “cling cling cling!” of the slot machines that will welcome me home at McCarran Airport. Instead, I’m here blogging to pass the time. Actually, correction: I’m writing a blog in Microsoft Word that I will later transfer to my real blog, because this airport charges $6.95 for internet access. Is that insane or what?! I just want to sign on and check some e-mails, surf facbeook, etc. I can get free wifi if I buy a $1 cup of tea at Starbucks, but if I drop a few hundred on airline tickets then suddenly I’m charged? This is silly. I’m sticking it to the proverbial Airport Man and not buying his wifi. HA! I will write in word, which you cannot charge me for.

Anyway, I figure I’ll sit here for a while and transcribe what I see for you. It will be almost as if you’re here with me in the airport. How fun! I have to warn you, though, that I am being strongly tempted by the smell of fresh McDonalds fries that is wafting over to me from the McDonalds next to this gate. I think scientists should do a study on how long people can sit and smell McDonalds fries without wanting to buy some. It’s not very long; that’s for sure. So I will probably follow my nostrils over there in a little bit. Until then…

The guy passing in front of me right now is genius, but I hope he’s not in a hurry. This man is in a wheelchair, and he’s rolling next to the moving walkway. He’s holding onto the arm rail of the moving walkway, so the belt is pulling him along and he doesn’t have to push his wheelchair. Good job, my disabled friend! You’re not going quickly, but you are expending absolutely no energy whatsoever in getting to your destination. That’s something not many of us can do.

The man sitting next to me at the charging station has taken notice of our disabled friend. He turns to me and says, “Well, that’s a new way to use the walkway!” I agree. Charging Station Man comments that we can watch the whole world go by from where we’re sitting. I agree again. Gasp – is he a fellow writer? Is he writing down everything he sees too? Perhaps he is writing about me right now: “This crazy girl with a way outdated MacBook is sitting next to me…she’s kind of quiet, but she’s super fashionable. It looks almost as if her grandma just bought her a whole new summer wardrobe…” Good job, Charging Station Man! She did.

I can’t stand it any more. I’m taking a peek at Charging Station Man’s computer to see what he’s writing. Oh! He’s about to eat a chip - perfect opportunity to peek.
That was anticlimactic. He’s working on a spreadsheet. It’s probably something for work. Maybe he’s a high-class businessman billionaire. I feel like only really sophisticated business people work on spreadsheets in their spare time. Perhaps his jeans and tee shirt are a disguise he wears when he goes out into public so that people won’t notice him and hound him for money or take unflattering pictures of him that will end up in Us Weekly or something. Let me check if he’s famous a second (he’s going to think that it’s weird that I keep looking at him).
Blast. Not famous. Well, not anyone that I know of anyway. To a normal observer he would look like an average guy working on a spreadsheet. Hmm… I must find another subject. Charging Station Man is boring me.

Oh look! A mobster pushing some luggage carts. Perfect. I am in Chicago, after all, so I suppose that fits. He’s probably not really a mobster, but he looks like one. He’s a mid-twenties tallish Mexican, and he’s not really skinny or fat. His hair is gelled straight up from his head, and it looks either like black flames or deadly spikes. It’s tall, too – probably about six inches shooting out of his head. Picture Heat Miser from The Year Without a Santa Claus as a Mexican, and you’ve got the idea. He also has a really thin mustache that looks as if he’s been trying to grow it out since he was fourteen but hasn’t really gotten very far. The gold chains clinking together around his neck complete the look.

Wait, are mobsters Mexican? I thought they were Italian… This guy is definitely Mexican; I heard him speaking Spanish. He didn’t sound Italian at all. Then again, I shouldn’t be mobster racist. I’m sure mobsters can come from any race. Black, White, Mexican, British….whatever. To the poor African tribal men playing bongos in your bamboo huts – YOU TOO CAN BE MOBSTERS IF YOU FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS!

Crap. Charging Station Man got French fries. See? I told you that they were unavoidable! Now I can smell them even more…mmmm…. He got a cheeseburger too! Mmmm….cheeseburger… I will resist for now, though. I have more to tell you about.
Excuse me, woman with the stroller, did you notice that you have no baby? This woman is pushing a stroller with a stuffed panda in it, but no baby. No, I’m not kidding. Do you really think I could make this stuff up? I’m not that creative. I’m looking around her for a husband or other family member holding the child, but there is no one. It’s just this woman and her panda flying solo. I’m waiting to hear an announcement over the intercom saying, “Excuse me travelers – please check your strollers. If you are missing a baby, she can be picked up at Terminal 3.”

Seriously, this woman has no baby. Maybe that panda is really important to her. OH MY GOSH, what if she’s smuggling drugs inside of that panda?! She is just pretending to have a baby so that no one will suspect her. Panda Lady – the mobster went the other way! What if I watched a drug deal go down right here at Gate B18? Now that would be truly crazy.

Here is a poor woman who deserves a blog shout-out – a grandma traveling with four kids. Before you start calling me ageist, I know she’s their grandma and not their mom because they’re calling her “grandma.” More accurately, they’re yelling it across the terminal as they run in four different directions and expect her to follow them. None of the children can be over ten. No way. What is this, “vacation with Grandma” week? This poor grandma is dealing with the fallout of the fact that her grandchildren have discovered the moving walkway. Now that you mention it, Benny, it IS kind of like a mini-rollercoaster! Let’s play on it all night or until your grandma has a heart attack from trying to corral all of you – whichever comes first. I can tell you something: this will probably be their last vacation with Grandma. She looks really tired and entirely too old to be dealing with this. If I had a badge of airport honor, I would give it to her.

This blog is now three single spaced pages long, and I’m still an hour and forty-five minutes from my flight. GAH! Maybe I should suck it up and pay the $6.95 for internet so I can fight boredom. No, I won’t pay! I will hold my ground. You know what? I could buy a whole feast at McDonalds with my $6.95, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m coming for you, delicious fries!