Terminal Living
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
There's nothing like hearing a story from someone about how they got screwed over by an airport. And by nothing I mean that it is exactly like the feeling you get when you're cornered by a mountain lion in a windowless laundry room. I have done both so I will spare any itinerarical details and focus on the story at hand.
In my travels of the last few weekends I spent a compulsory evening in a major airport in a major city. When an airport closes for the night the usual civil environment of people hustling from one terminal to another, ordering coffee, and chatting while waiting for their flight changes completely. The night brings out the primeval urges of man. In some ways an airport at night is more savage than an ancient cave dwelling.
The first task is selecting the location that will be your home for the next few dark hours. We stalked down the hall looking for vacant spot to call our own. The edges of the hall were dotted with small segregated groups. I saw a group of teachers talking non-stop about how much they hated work (on summer vacation no less!). There were families huddled close around a the glow of a cell phone for warmth. A mother held her toddler in her lap. Both of them were prone to frequent coughing fits. Airport workers had already set about cleaning various places in the airport.
Finally we found a spot near the window away and away from the other squatters. While we quickly set about marking out our territory an electric cart came by with a cheery gruff man who was passing out blankets. "Staying the night? Good luck! Here is an extra blanket! Be sure to sleep with one eye open!" he told us with a smile.We used our shoes to form a semi-circle perimeter of our territory. We glanced furtively to either side while placing each shoe to make sure that anyone looking knew that we meant business. Then my dad and I staged a fake wrestling match to establish that we were the toughest squatters out there and that our clan was not to be messed with. I began by swinging my carry-on backpack and screaming obscenities while my dad parried with his fists. We called it good when he drew blood on my forearm with a mega Indian burn. Knowing that we were mostly safe, our clan decided that we could sleep.
I woke up at... God knows what time, and was feeling pretty hungry. All of the food courts had closed and I had not eaten in over half a day. As I walked around to see if anyone had a spare apple or pudding pack when who did I see but none other than the hulking 280lb, 6'10" mass known as Jared from Subway - sitting there in the airport just like you or I! I was thrilled to see a familiar and friendly looking face! He was busy setting his teeth to a raw T-bone steak as I approached. Surely he had some Subway mustard packets or cookies I could eat. When I stepped forward to ask he barked furiously at me. I jumped and turned to run. Jared chased after me on all fours. Finally I cleared his arbitraily defined territory which he had previously marked with urine. At this time he lumbered cautiously back to his meat.When I got my bearings back I found myself situated between the gaggle of teachers and the men's bathroom. A worker was busy waxing the floor in front of the bathroom and an impassable barrier of wet floor signs were blocking me from getting a drink of water. I looked towards the teacher camp. They were still yammering loudly about their jobs. On the ground sitting next to one of them I spied a half finished scone and a Starbucks coffee cup. Sustenance!
I was not going to attempt to
In the bathroom I tore off a few sheets of paper towels. I formed the paper into a sharp object. I crept back towards the hallway. I could not see the worker so I assumed it was safe. I wiped the object around in the wax to give it a nice coating. Then I scurried back into the bathroom where I ran the paper and wax under the hand dryer until it was hard. Now I had a perfectly made prison shank!
I used some of the blood on my arm and painted my face so I looked like a fierce warrior. Shank clenched between my teeth, I crawled on my belly towards the teachers' camp. They were still discussing work horror stories at... it was 4AM!"... and THEN he was like 'hey Cathy I need to talk to you for a second after you let your class out'. And I was like my contract states that my obligations to the school end at 3PM sharp and I will be calling the union if I'm held after for over 15 minutes..."
I was getting closer to making the scone and coffee be in my belly. I slid across the floor like a snake on a mission. But I started getting dizzy. I was breathing heavy. The teachers were still talking.
"... you know what I would do is give them detention and make their parents stay and watch them! HAHA! I mean why should we have to do all of this extra work..."
I found myself choking. Every breath only caused more pain in my chest. My head was pounding. The closer I got the less oxygen there was. The teachers had laid out a yammering vacuum trap to suck up all of the nearby oxygen and the scone was the bait! Nearly passed out I looked up. The teachers had surrounded me. "Gotcha!" Darkness...
I woke up. The teachers had tied me to an airport chair and were preparing a fire on the other end of the row of chairs. "We'll teach you sonny! Get it? Teach you? Haha!" The fire had spread to the second chair while the continued to complain about work. How the fire burned in the yammer vacuum, I don't know. One of them kept glancing at me to make sure I would not get free. The scone was still there, obviously set to trap another victim. I could reach it with my feet. I grabbed the scone with my feet and flipped it into the fire. No one else would be meeting my fate. The smell of burning scone filled the air.
The fire had moved to the 3rd chair. Only one chair separated myself from the fire. I had run out of plans. Then I heard something roar. Jared from Subway was running up the staircase. He must have smelled the burning scone! Jared leapt into the middle of the teachers and gnashed his teeth at them. He bristled his back growling. The teachers quickly got up and ran.
I told Jared that I loved Subway and eat there 3 or 4 times a week. He cocked his head to the side. "That's it boy. Come here!" The fire had reached the chair next to me. "Bite through these ropes!" Jared went to work on the ropes with his massive jaws. At the last moment Jared free me. I grabbed on to his back and he ran. The final chair caught fire and the whole row exploded in a great fireball. Eyes closed tightly, I felt tongues of flame licking my bare heals.
Jared carried me back to our airport camp and and placed me on my airport blankets. I was able to get another hour of sleep before catching that 7AM flight.
Thanks Jared. Cape Cod was a lot of fun!
posted by Ghengis @ 5:21 PM,
1 Conflict(s):
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At August 11, 2006 at 6:24 PM,
Ghengis has news of...
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I'm sure that a lot of -certain- agencies understandably have a complete lack of sense of humor in light of recent events. I would like to clarify that everything about weapons and/or fire in this story is completely made up and false.
Everything about Jared is true though. I really did see him and he is an animal.
