Airport Fever! Or, Where's My Bagel, Damnit?!
I've been at the airport foreverrrrr...
Earlier I saw a guy in a state police jacket riding a bicycle down the airport hallway. Maybe I'm hallucinating.
All the food the Hartford airport sells at this hour has diary, except for one sad looking fruit cup and a few bags of potato chips. Not one bagel anywhere! So I walked through two terminals eating a stalk of broccoli that I happened to have in the car.
My exchange with Man in Elevator-
MiE: This place is too big.
Me: Yeah...I wish I hadn't parked at the wrong terminal.
MiE: I'm completely lost. I have to go find the state police 'cause they have my cell phone. Then I have to find my truck...I have no idea where my truck is parked.
Me: I'm sorry. Would you like a piece of broccoli?
Ha! Judging from his face, I think I am officially part of the Hartford airport late-night crazy brigade. I hope I make it into the story he tells later about losing his phone and truck at the airport.
It's almost as good as that time my mother asked the man in front of us in line at the ticket counter if he had any chocolate to give us. Only I think that might have been the time I did an impromptu puppet show, so that makes it way better. Or was my Rosie and Sarah show a different time? Anyway, I think airports bring out the crazy in me sometimes. It's probably hereditary.
Earlier I saw a guy in a state police jacket riding a bicycle down the airport hallway. Maybe I'm hallucinating.
All the food the Hartford airport sells at this hour has diary, except for one sad looking fruit cup and a few bags of potato chips. Not one bagel anywhere! So I walked through two terminals eating a stalk of broccoli that I happened to have in the car.
My exchange with Man in Elevator-
MiE: This place is too big.
Me: Yeah...I wish I hadn't parked at the wrong terminal.
MiE: I'm completely lost. I have to go find the state police 'cause they have my cell phone. Then I have to find my truck...I have no idea where my truck is parked.
Me: I'm sorry. Would you like a piece of broccoli?
Ha! Judging from his face, I think I am officially part of the Hartford airport late-night crazy brigade. I hope I make it into the story he tells later about losing his phone and truck at the airport.
It's almost as good as that time my mother asked the man in front of us in line at the ticket counter if he had any chocolate to give us. Only I think that might have been the time I did an impromptu puppet show, so that makes it way better. Or was my Rosie and Sarah show a different time? Anyway, I think airports bring out the crazy in me sometimes. It's probably hereditary.