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Airport Story: You Can Fly, But You Can’t Hide

October 22, 2011

A Saturday morning at the airport. The rain sheets down the building and travelers mill about, rummage through novels with identically designed covers, and stand in line for Wolfgang Puck Gourmet Express. My standard fruit Mentos have been purchased (don’t ask…it’s just a thing) and I’m making my way to the gate. I walk alongside two gents. One rotund, fiercely loud guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt and his only slightly smaller companion, decked out in seersucker. Really. Seersucker. They are discussing something related to their business and the key words I hear again and again are “crush”, “destroy”, “trounce” and “take-over”. Of course, my brain assumes they just fleeced someone and are now boarding a plane for a warmer climate to dry-wash their hands, laugh sinisterly, and feel satisfied with their Machiavellian maneuvers. And then one will be bitten by a heretofore unknown Bahamian spider and his internal organs will turn into microsuede and the other will meet a justified but unexpected end at the hands of a masked avenger known only as Stan. The universe sometimes doesn’t seem to take notice, but when it moves, it acts swiftly and with great style.


From → Not Bus Stories

One Comment
  1. Love this! I think seersucker is its own punishment.

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