I remember why I hate Arizona. More than tourists, more than crowded San Diego beaches – the state itself enrages me. First off, everyone who works at the airport was actually born in this country – I’m already out of my element. (Yay state legislature). Lady with a baby (questionably with one on the way to boot) in the smoking section. Most people are too unassumingly nice for their own good. The asian guy on the plane next to me actually spoke english, and the Einstein Bagel people stopped to have a 5 minute conversation with a little boy only after checking 12 times if everyone waiting around had been helped. Try getting that service in California. Scratch that: try even getting the Starbucks order you already paid for in California. The only person who wasn’t unassumingly nice was wearing a Yankees cap and didn’t think I would notice him watching me eat my sandwich. Go figure.
I really wish I were one of those people who are easygoing travelers. I am instead, one of those people who is in a bad mood at the airport for no reason in particular. I am simply put out by the thought of airplane travel. It’s not that I’m not good at it, it’s just that I would rather hitchhike. I have nightmares about airplane claustrophobia, am highly skeptical of the new security body scan x-rays, and have a general distaste for lines and the invasion of my personal space. I hate how my skin gets oily and my hair gets static, and the way the seats are so damn close together even my butt falls asleep by the end of the flight, no matter what.
Last but not least, people always joke about airplane food – but can anyone do something about airport food? I’m sick of the same things in every terminal across America – Burger King, Chili’s Too, and Cinnabon. NO WONDER EVERYONE IS FAT. Not to mention all the “real” Mexican food advertised in this airport, served by white people. Get me to hawaii with my gays, ASAP!
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