Airport Red Rover

My sister has been emailing me all week torturous messages from her travels in Los Angeles, courtesy of her Blackberry.

I keep getting ones like, "Sitting in a tank top in Santa Monica on the beach—it is so sunny here!" or "Just saw the girl from 'Bend it Like Beckham' while touring the Warner Brothers Studio!" or "Heading to a big party for our cousin, can't wait to meet Jimmy Kimmel and Sara Silverman to ask them why Ben Affleck isn't at the party!"

My personal favorite included a funny deformed photo of herself which I'm assuming was captured in the wiggly fun house mirrors at Ripley's Believe it Or Not Museum where she said, "Had some time to myself so I stopped into a Beverly Hills Salon and got some work done."

It was frightening. I barely recognized her pretty little face. I urged her to come home before she ended up looking like a bad rendition of an Orange County Housewife. Which, in itself, is a bad rendition of a normal American middle aged woman, if you ask me.

And, the final email featured her sitting patiently in the LAX cell phone waiting area for her boss' plane to land. She and I both agree that the cell phone waiting lots are a genius idea—a very simple solution to a really annoying problem. See how this comes back to commuting? Patience, people, patience.

In Atlanta, my hometown and arguably the busiest airport in the country, when you're flying in, you must either have an uncanny sense of timing or ESP in order to meet your party outside the arrivals gates at just the exact moment when they choose to drive by, or you have to have them park somewhere near the airport, which can only be described as the 'hood, only to wait for your "I've just landed!" call to get them moving. Otherwise, the driver tries to deploy a stealth operation designed to stall along the arrivals gate, idling in the lane while the Atlanta Police yell at you, scream obscenities and threaten tickets, fines, or promise to steal your first born.

The cell phone waiting lot allows you to avoid all of that, and to wait for your party, but in a civilized, uniformed and efficient manner. Atlanta Hartsfield and O'Hare airports, get on that, wouldja?

Lauren claims that at the LAX lot, all the cars starting up and leaving her one by one made her feel like she was playing a giant cosmic game of Red Rover, and she was the fat, sweaty, scary and overly tall kid of whom everyone was afraid.

She's not, for the record.

But, if I wasn't a tiny bit afraid of her, I'd be posting the fun house mirror photo for you all to see.

Isn't It Ironic?

On the bus last night, during the treacherous 55 minute trek home in the snow (uphill both ways barefoot), the accordian bus I was on was packed to the gills. I was standing, balancing a shoulderbag, holding onto the pole above, and reading, which I've gotten very good at doing.

A young girl was seated by the window, in the front 1/3 of the bus. I was standing just one and a half rows in front of her, facing her side. She got a phone call.

Flipping open her jeweled cell phone, she loudly answered and began a conversation that was peppered with "like" and "uhm, yeah, totally!" and the volume just got louder and louder. She went on to talk about "how, like, I'm a great manager and I just, like, don't understand why that guy got so mad! I'm, like, really good with people, and can almost always, like, help the customer! I, like, am organized and like, get things done, and totally help out."

She was talking so loudly that everyone, like, knew her business.

Instead of glaring at her, I prefer to watch the other passengers. Silent grumbling. Wrinkled brows. Exchanged looks between couples. Smirks shared by strangers. And, the occasional old person who just doesn't give a hoot about what other people think anymore just loudly ranting about how rude that girl is. Well, rudeness goes both ways, but you're old, so I'll let you get away with it.

Anyway, my only complaint is this: when you're reading, it is hard to have a loud conversation infiltrating your mind while you concentrate on the written words. The story gets jumbled, and you end up re-reading the same paragraphs over and over. All the while you could care less about the stupid chatter you're hearing, but you just can't avoid it. So, I would have just liked to tell this "like, little, rude great manager" to just turn down the chatty volume a touch.

Just then, God interfered.

Ok, so it wasn't God. It was the CTA pre-recorded voice. But, to the masses on the bus, it was divine intervention.

"Please be courteous to others around you while talking on your cell phone." the automated female-voiced announcement said, to an almost-silent -except-for-her bus of people.

Everyone started laughing. Cracking up, actually.

She didn't even hear it. She was still, like, totally, uhm, talking too loud.