The best deceptions.

Monday, February 23, 2009

I woke up this morning in Arizona, preparing for my hour and 10 minute flight back to Malibu. My mom was making me eggs and guess what? out came two eggs from one shell, after she told me good luck I was on my way to the airport, only for all my luck to disappear. So, I’ve just been stripped searched by some grumpy old lady because my 3 tiny gold bracelets don’t come off and heaven forbid I give her something to do. But I have to pee. I walk into the bathroom and find a stall where the doors not broken. I walk in and of course there’s no place to hang my purse. So I’m trying to balance my purse while I put the toilet seat cover on. I finally sit. Then some fat lady next to me slams her door and mine flings open. I freak out and scramble to close door before my whoo-ha is exposed to the public. Then I get back up, all while balancing my purse, and wash my hands. I finally get out of the shit-whole (literally) only to step in a giant puddle of who knows what. Guys have no idea how easy they have it. zip-stand-zip. Ridiculous.

After that traumatic experience and a soggy boot, I start out on the gate search. Something happens, the heavens open up and “AHHH” Starbucks. After walking (or possibly jogging) to the counter, I order my usual, “tall soy sugar-free vanilla latte.” After being charged $7 I walk to the counter, patiently awaiting my warm goodness. She hands me my drink, sip, it’s regular milk (I’m dairy free…). I kindly walk back and tell the lady I asked for soy. She smiles and remakes it, sip, its regular milk, again. After the 3rd time, in her broken English, she says, “Sorry we’re out of soy.”

About this time, all I want is Gate C13. I find my seat, all alone, with my coffee and my blackberry, perfection. Along comes this (no joke) 300 pound, sweating man in a Bigdog XXXL t-shirt and an under-armor hat. He sits down next to his (what I later find out) son and says (very loudly), “that definitely took care of that problem.” He’s most likely going to be my row-partner. Awesome, it gets better. He starts telling his son, yes son, about how many “ladies he nailed this weekend.” Right, try, how many porn sites did you frequent?

I learned more in my hour and a half journey through sky harbor then I did in most of my pre-pubescent years. I learned that public restrooms are never clean, no matter how much the cleaning lady “mops the slops.” I learned that there are job opportunities for all in an airport Starbucks.

And mostly I learned that life is all about perceptions. Take for example the Floridian “cowboy” with the mullet and Frye boots. Or the grandma who looks like she’s going to a formal event in her black crushed velvet blazer - and she’s most likely yelling. My favorite though is the guy in the extra-tight diesel jeans, black leather-bound shoes, ed hardy t-shirt with a zip up ed hardy sweatshirt. He’s walking around so everyone can see him with his $40,000 smile, probably thinking his shit don’t stink, when he probably just left the bathroom.

It’s amazing how people want to be perceived. The airport is like one big day-time television episode. It’s full of drama, love, tearful goodbyes and fakes. At least it makes things more interesting before I have to board the sweat box and glide over to LA.

Maybe we give to much thought to how we’re perceived and not enough thought to how we actually are.

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I love hearing from all of you and greatly appreciate all your feedback and comments! xx Kristen

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