Airport Musings

written on September 4 during a layover:

I have this thing with airports: I get highly amused by anything and everything when I’m in them. My senses somehow are in alert mode. I just love to observe everything around me and to make up stories about people in my head. Here are some random thoughts that have come to mind since I started my journey back to Madrid:

• I heart Atlanta! Ok, so I’ve actually never been outside of its airport but whatev. I love it! Men are hot! When my friend, Greg, used to live in Atlanta, I used to joke – not really – with him about finding me a hot black man. They are everywhere in the airport…just imagine the outside!
• Seeing a bunch of young men and women in desert war uniforms is a hard reality check. It’s so easy to forget that we’re at war when we don’t see dead bodies or hear bombs and gunshots on a daily basis. It was sad seeing them in huge masses as they are all in transit at the ATL airport, especially when 75% of the guys/girls I saw were no more than 25 years old.
• Another reason why I love Atlanta: people are nice! All airport personnel say hello and say a few more words like “how are you”. I have never been greeted by a U.S. passport controller as well as I was greeted in Atlanta.
• A guy in his 20s at the magazine store pointed out, in disbelief, the magazine, Black Hair, to his girlfriend. He comments that he doesn’t know how they could talk about such a subject 12 times a year. Thank god for his girlfriend who was smart enough to remind him that they make magazines about other types of hair also.
• Being on a plane full of Italians is like being on a plane full of Filipinos. It’s loud, people are constantly moving around even when the plane is about to take off, and flight attendants feel the need to constantly remind people of rules. Oh you gotta love the Italians!
• A young Italian man – who just came from Cancun because that’s what his wrist band said – got on the plane wearing a buttoned-down shirt that was unbuttoned almost all the way down to his belly button showing his chest hair. Classic!
• While halls of American airports are lined with one food chain after another, European airports are filled with shops (clothing, shoes, purses, etc.). You know you’re in an Italian airport when you see a Dolce & Gabbana (WTF!)…that and all the freaking beautiful women who are skinny with big boobs (damn it!).
• About six years and ten days ago, I arrived in Europe for the first time right here in Rome. Being here totally brings me back :(. If only I could get out of this ugly airport and see the Colosseum or the Trevi, and eat some pizza and gelato.

Well that’s all for now. I have about another two hours here at Fiumicino airport in Rome. I’m bored, tired, and sleepy. I can’t wait to crash on my tiny little twin bed. I’m gonna walk around see if I could practice the few Italian words I remember. Maybe I can go to Spizzico (the Italian fast food chain), or get a new outfit from D&G…hahahaha. Arrivederci!