It’s 9:34am CDT in the O’Hare International Airport. And no one is smiling. I know why airports will never be the same, everyone knows why, but it still makes me sad.
Maybe it’s because I was almost always going on vacation, maybe it’s because we always had a cocktail, but it used to be so much fun to fly. No, it’s not the missing booze. There’s just no sense of celebration.
No one can meet you at the gate, no one can see you off. It’s all business, show your boarding pass, shoes off, pockets empty, stand this way, empty your bottles. It’s just the way it is.
I’m afraid to joke with anyone for fear they’ll think I’m covering up something. And that’s hard for me. I think funny and if it doesn’t come out it just bottles up inside and comes out in a loud burp. It has to. If contained it’s dangerous to my system. So I don’t even intend to burp but it has to happen so that people are forced to laugh and my soul and psyche is appeased.
So I promise the goofy look on my face is not acting, I’m not that good. It’s just that it has to escape. For all our good. Otherwise it might be a very loud burp and it might come out on the plane. And I don’t want to be stared at for the four hour flight to LA.
Maybe I should go outside first, they look like they’re having more fun managing the planes and they’re working. I don’t think anyone waiting for my flight is working, they’re all dressed worse than me and that’s saying something.