Airports are like amusement parks for people on their way to work.
They sell all kinds of junk food and overpriced souvenirs and you stand around waiting in line to get on rides.
I love to ride SkyLink at DFW. I love to hear the man on the recording tell us to “hold on. This train is departing.”
Always makes me want to start singing, “this train is bound for glory, this train….”
I also love to eat at TGI Friday’s in the airport, so I was glad that I had enough of a layover yesterday before my flight to Columbus.
Then I wandered over to Starbucks and got a tall, nonfat pumpkin spice latte.
Even managed to find a seat closer to the front when I boarded, escaping the mindblowing roar of the engines.
Despite the patdown by Abilene International Airport security, I was having an exceptionally nice flying experience.
Until I took my seat on the plane. Where the roar of the engines would’ve been welcomed.
For two solid hours the woman behind me talked. Loudly. Nonstop. She hardly took a breath.
At first I was mildly interested in her recent diving expedition in Hawaii where they actually went down in cages and interacted with sharks. But it got old quickly.
Every now and then I thought it would stop, but the man sitting next to her kept asking questions.
I’ve been both of those people.
Today, though, I just wanted to read the new book that I had downloaded to the Kindle app on my phone. And I had just enough battery power to read the book. I didn’t have enough to both read and listen to music, but I had to have something to concentrate. First, I tried just putting the headphones in, to see if that would drown out the noise.
It did not.
I had no choice but to turn on something classical, with no words, because I can no longer read words and comprehend them while someone is singing. Or talking.
I’m 51 and I’ve had a head injury. I need quiet.
I wanted to turn around in my seat and tell her to SHUT UP!
But I didn’t. I didn’t turn around and give her a dirty look. I didn’t even make the slightest turn in my seat, obviously signaling my irritation with her.
This is progress, people.