Rictus Hung Wide
I overhear:
"They got this new yogurt now. It's just like regular yogurt, but you can drink it. It's a yogurt you can drink."
"What?"
"Yeah. It tastes good. It's sweet, and you drink it."
"What's it taste like?"
"Mine tasted like cherries. It's good."
"I have to try some of that then."
The intercom is obviously broken, but the ticket checker insists on using it. "Attention Delta garble. Garble garble garble in an overbook situation. If any garble garble flexible garble garble garble compensation, please garble garble garble desk."
Everybody turns to look, but nobody moves.
I'm standing at a urinal in a men's restroom in the Cincinnati airport. An old janitor is at work in one of the stalls to my left; a huge cart full of cleaning products blocks access to the other stalls. A young man approaches the cart, leaning over it to ask, "Man, you heard what happened?"
"No. I been in here cleaning this toilet."
"Second play of the game, and Palmer got his knee blown out. Someone wrecked his knee, right as he was making a sixty-six-yard pass. He's out of the game now."
"Oh man. That's it then. It's done."
"Yeah."
"That's our season right there."
"Yeah, I know."
"You know what the worst thing is? I should be at home right now watching the game with a beer in my hand. Instead, I got to clean this damned toilet."
Several seconds pass. "Well, I got to go now. Talk to you later on."
"Okay."
I'm done, too. Jiggle. Zip. Flush.
I flick my eyes up from my book and notice a kid in a wheelchair headed my way across the empty pavilion. He's got this big smile on his face, and his thin arms are working overtime as he pumps his wheels toward me. He gets a little closer before I detect that he's not just crippled; something's wrong in his head. Autism, maybe. An elderly woman--the kid's grandmother, I presume--scuttles in his wake.
Then I realize that the kid doesn't even see me. He's looking just past my seat at the enormous flat-screen TV monitor around which all the nearby couches are clustered. He wants his TV, and he wants it bad. But the TV's not on, and there are no controls--just a sign: TV is controlled remotely. Please DO NOT TOUCH.
Grandma approaches the TV, reads the sign, and stares for a good thirty seconds before retreating all the way back to where the kid's parents are seated. Little Johnny, which by now is what I've dubbed him, pirouettes with impressive agility and follows her, panic-stricken.
Soon the mother makes her way over and meets with the same failure. Johnny is near tears, but there's nothing to be done about it. Mama returns to her seat.
By this point Daddy has heard two separate tales of woe, so he decides to look at the TV for himself. He even tries to peek around the back of the monitor, but nothing catches his eye. Johnny begins grunting and gesticulating madly. Daddy scratches his head. "Boy, how'd you even know that's a TV? It looks more like a window to me."
Johnny screams with pyretic fury. Time for me to find a new spot. When I stand, I realize that my foot has gone to sleep. I grab my bag and limp away like a wounded creature.
"I just got these new headphones, see?"
"Oh wow, those are expensive! Very nice."
"If you could know how you're going to die, down to the very second and the smallest detail, would you want to know?"
"Know how I die?"
"Yeah."
"No. I'd want it to be a surprise."
"You like surprises?"
"I guess I do."
"Not me. I'd want to know in advance. That way I could make my peace with God."
"Why don't you just make your peace with God now? That way, you won't have to worry about it."
"I try to. I try every day. It's hard, though. It's hard."
I've just taken my seat on the plane. Now I can only hope against all odds that the seat next to mine will remain empty. The middle-aged businessman with McDonald's stains on his shirt sits in front of me. The mother with two mewling children continues past me -- well past me, thankfully. But then a gnarled old woman with sienna hair sits beside me and smiles. Her name is Lucille, and she reeks of hairspray and makeup. I haven't said a word, but this does not stop Lucille from explaining that this is her first flight in nearly twenty years, and that she's simply terrified of flying.
My head becomes as one giant tumescence, pregnant with equal parts rage and mirth.
When I finally get home, I immediately load up The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind and create a new character. I pour a stiff drink and proceed to lose myself in the world of Vvardenfell, with its plentitude of quests and notoriously lifeless NPCs. I spend several hours staring into dead eyes and navigating robotic conversation paths before deciding that this is not an escape from the world, but merely more of the same. At least for this night, I've picked the wrong game with which to have my fun.
Sometimes there really is no escape.
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All I heard about at work on Sunday was the game.
Speaking of, I work in the airport. Totally missed opportunity for an impromptu GWJ slap & tickle. Only without the slapping and tickling, lest I get fired.
Also: Yes, the characters in Morrowind are stiff and oddly animated. Your disappointment in your game choice isn't really surprising here.
And yet another also: TEH FUNNY!
XBLive: Thin J
PSN: Thin_J
I don't imagine master craftsmen leaping away from completed projects and shouting "Done, motherf*ckers! - 1Dgaf
So you're the guy who insisted on frisking me! I'll send you a PM next time I'm flying through Cinci.
The market has much to answer for as to why gaming is NOT an art. -- illum
Sounds like you need a dose of Space Rangers II.
"Oh, you again? Well, I do have some work for you as it happens. Seems that Elvis, the famous singer, will be travelling in-system, and needs a bodyguard, someone to protect his transport..."
Hey, at least in that game, bizarre has a sense of humor.
Extremism in the defense of liberty *is* a vice. It has been since the first Crown Loyalist was tarred, feathered and set afire, and it's no better now. It corrupts first the individual, then ultimately the institution it defends.
I like that drinkable yogurt a lot. They've got these two flavors, mixed berry and wild berry. One of them has a really nasty-ass aftertaste but I forget which one it is. I think wild berry.
NOTE: This is not a doodle bug.
BF2142 Stats
My wife had to fly to Alabama last night for business. And of course the first leg of her flight was late and her connecting flight f*cking left early. So she had to wait in Atlanta for nearly 2 hours for the next flight. Man, I hate airlines. People wonder why they go bankrupt so often? It's because they suck.
Fedaykin98 wrote:
Travelling sucks. Travelling by plane REALLY sucks. And other people? Yeah, they usually suck, too.
Mercury's been in retrograde most of the week. It's like a full moon with a side of kicked-in-the-nuts. -- H.P. Lovesauce
Very incisive piece. I like it. =)
XBL: necrocinnabon
EVE Online: Hephaestus Jones
I've lost days of my life in Atlanta-Hartsfield.
Literally. DAYS!
"I think Elysium has the right of it" - Certis
Its Hartsfield-Jackson now.
People do suck, and flying is almost the worst form of travel, just edged out by a full greyhound bus.
The best form of travel, is a sleeper car on Amtrak/Train, your own little room to escape too. Unless the train breaks down in Flagstaff and they put you on a greyhound to Los Angels. /shudder
Posting on the boards is easy. The trick is to kick someone's ass the first day, or become someone's bitch. Chiggie Von Richthofen on how to transition from lurker to poster.
I lost 36 hours of my life at the airport in Detroit. That sucked.
I always forget the Jackson part.
Atlanta, however, is only my second least favorite airport - or at least the one I've lost the most hours to.
The worst, by far, is Houston. I've never been to Houston when they haven't delayed or cancelled my flight. I'm not sure I've ever been to Houston when they haven't been deluged by rain and threatened by severe, possibly angry, weather.
The things I hate about traveling are too copious to mention.
"I think Elysium has the right of it" - Certis
I'll PM you my address so you can send me that E3 ticket.
I generated a virtual world in the toilet bowl this morning.
-- Podunk on the PS3's mystical, magical abilities
Why would they send a flight early? Wouldn't the plane be empty?
Danjo Olivaw Lives
There are lots of reasons they might send a plane early. If it's picking up slack for another flight that was cancelled or delayed, or if traffic control needs to avoid a potential jam at a specific time, they might ask the flight to depart ahead of schedule. Those are just two of the excuses I've heard. I'm sure there are more.
Don't be saucy with me, Bernaise. - Count DeMonet
FalseGravity - My first blog.
I'll admit it, I had to look up the word "rictus", which, as it turns out, is not near as pornographic as it sounds. But, hey, what's a Lobo article if you don't have to use the dictionary at least once? I enjoyed reading about your flight plight Lobo, a bit of a guilty pleasure since I was glad it wasn't me experiencing it firsthand. I have another confession to make, I like flying, and I think airports are totally cool. As for the rest of it, well, refer to my sig.
Fedaykin98 wrote:
I have a guilty admission to make. I love the airport. I don't know why. Perhaps because I don't travel a lot, or because I am geographically more likely to hit better airports. Is Dallas or Denver more pleasant than Atlanta and such?
In most situations where large, dense groups of people are present my fight-or-flight kicks in overtime and I freak out; but something about the airport negates this irrationality. It is there and only there that I am able to appreciate the bustle and truly commune with humanity. I like taking the subway-like train cars and I like not taking the people movers, opting instead to walk just a little faster next to them.
Then you get to shoot through the atmosphere in a metal tube! How amazing is that?
Danjo Olivaw Lives
We've had drinkable yogurt for decades here. There's some weird flavors like raisins and cucumber.
The man wears a bucket of KFC on his head. I wouldn't expect anything less. - Pred
I hate to fly, unless it's first class or jet charter. I haven't tried to fly in 4 years, because I have it on good authority that I've made it on to the No Fly List. (Again, I haven't tried, so I only know that the person who has the same name as me gets cavity searched every time she trys to get on a plane, and eventually they'll tell her they have the wrong Deva and let her go. I've never been brave enough to find out if I am indeed the *right* Deva, and if so, then what happens. (It would make a fun article though, assuming I can get internet access in Gitmo...or whatever country they expat me to for the torture part.)
As to airports themselves, way back in the horse and buggy days, when the Dallas airport was open all night, there were three of us that used to go to the airport and ride the tram around and around while we were working on songs for one guy's band, article pitches for the music magazine for which I wrote, and reviewing demo tapes that were sent to the third, who would later become a fantastic promoter. We spent hours and hours and hours on the trams....3 times a week or more. I know it sounds really weird...but the clubs we frequented were loud, punk or metal houses, coffee houses hadn't become a social phenomenon yet, and most everywhere else, people would interrupt us...where as the tram...uninterrupted core brain dump time. It was really great. I've lost touch with both of those guys, but I think of them fondly every time I have to go to the airport.
*Legion* wrote:
Dude, that was deviled ham!
"Men like sex, thus boobies! Oogaba!" - dejanzie
"If ads put your sanity to the test
come on down to Rat Boy's nest!
light up a stogie, and soon you'll see
how rock can be commercial-free!
'I'd hit it!'" - HP Lovesauce
I always found airports to be intersting.
It may be due to the fact I never worry about connecting flights, or my bags being lost (even though both happenend at various points) but because I am never fully awake at an airport.
I almost always am 1/2 asleep at the airport, due to leaving early and convincing a friend to drive, or jet lag. Add in the music in my ears and the whole thing becomes amusing. Either that or I start trying to figure out good cover positions as I plot my foot-by-foot battle for the airport.
Yeah, that's probably a big chunk of my problem, too.
The market has much to answer for as to why gaming is NOT an art. -- illum
Nah, it's not the problem. It's the reason it isn't horrible. The whole thing is some strange dream sequence where I am not in the real world... I am in a airport.
Careful, they might be watching...
XBLive: Thin J
PSN: Thin_J
I don't imagine master craftsmen leaping away from completed projects and shouting "Done, motherf*ckers! - 1Dgaf
It sounds to me like Lobo's problem is less with airplanes and more with Godot. That said, I hate flying too.
Kat on Cally wrote:
Boötes's Photo Blog
I really related to this article until I realized that Lobo was annoyed with the everyday overheard dribbles of conversation. I can sit in one spot and listen to people (that don't know I'm there) talk for a long time. My lady has the same kind of interest. We both hate people and more importantly groups of people, but, are instantly enraptured when people around us start to talk.
We'll go to dinner and not say two words to each other the whole time, then once we are in the car we'll talk the whole way home about the different conversations everyone else was having.
I never really talk alot to more than a few people and am content most of the time to just observe what other human beings chatter about. I find it a nigh irresistible curiosity.
Letters to the Internet
Mayfield's rule to flying:
#1. Get to a terminal early, scout the people around you.
#2. Find a cute girl, talk it up with them.. find out where they are seating.
#3. Get the flight attendant to change the seat to be in the same row with her.
Problem solved! It is amazing how fast a flight from Buffalo to Kennedy goes when you are sitting next to a Rockette.
Playing WoW as: Vilius (70 NE Druid)
“The only function of economic forecasting is to make astrology look respectable.” John K Galbraith
Hmmm, let me check with the wife? Elysia, whadya think? I chat it up with cute girls and sit next to them while you care of our 2 year-old?
"I think Elysium has the right of it" - Certis
Nope.
How about instead, you care for the cute 2-year-old, and I'll sit next to the cute girl and read a book, or watch Serenity on the portable DVD player?
Unlike Elysium, and apparently most of you, I actually don't mind air travel all that much. When Elysium flies with me, I'm a bag of nerves - because he is a bag of nerves! When I fly on my own, or even with the aforementioned 2-year-old (an amazingly good traveler for one so small), I enjoy it. Really. Airports can be fun.
Except for Houston.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.
- Dr. Martin Luther King
Ok I changed it to Mayfield's rule of business flying ok, just for you.
Playing WoW as: Vilius (70 NE Druid)
“The only function of economic forecasting is to make astrology look respectable.” John K Galbraith