Under Cardiac Arrest in an Airport

Stranded for the moment at St Louis Int'l...I'm giving my body the only exercise I can find between flights. I misordered a sandwich that packed way too much cholesterol and now it feels like my chest is slowly caving in. Sure, I could have just 'not eaten it' but I wasn't brought up to waste food (plus, bacon is bacon is bacon, people).

In stark contrast to my last trip involving airports, I haven't seen one copy of the Twilight series in a person's hand (wherein previously one out of every three persons I encountered was nose-deep in any given title). I am hoping this means they've settled into their rightful place betwixt lockers and the clearance aisles of used book stores.*

I don't know why I never noticed how much large airports resemble little cities...and why it didn't occur to me until I encountered the red light district. Sitting at my gate I noticed someone had deserted their area without cleaning up. A second look revealed the mess consisted of scattered order cards and the hastily opened plastic wrap of an Adult Magazine. Both funny and unsettling, I chalked it up to mean joke or disturbing addiction. You forget sometimes that some folks just don't care for courtesy or discretion.

Finally, it impresses me how I've inexplicably managed to land a view that mimics John Lithgow's from The Twilight Zone Movie on every flight.


*full disclosure: I've read the first book and a portion of the second (some on that very same trip). In all honesty the books aren't terrible - but the level of fame they've garnered kinda is.