A little while back I took a little trip to Mexico, by way of San Diego. As with all of my trips, it became an accidental whirlwind of unintentional comedy and goofy stuff. Here are some of my dispatches from the road, written on the trip.
PART ONE: AIRPORTVILLE
An airport is really just a small, enclosed town. It has a little bit of everything there in tiny, expensive increments, just enough for you to experience and get back to your travels. You can buy food, clothing, gifts, all sorts of things.
For example, you can get a good deal on luggage at the airport. I guess that appeals to the traveler who walks into the airport carrying all of their belongings in separate Walmart grocery bags.
My favorite item in the airport for purchase is the pornography. In the book/magazine stores, there’s always a selection of porn. I have no idea why they’re selling porn, but if there’s a section in every airport I’ve ever been through, that must mean someone is buying it. They wouldn’t just have it there as a loss leader to draw in the high-rolling crowd. Who needs a nudie magazine to get on a plane for several hours? I guess it’s for people who want to join the Mile High Club, but don’t mind joining as a solo act.
Our airplane wasn’t even big enough for me to comfortably masturbate on, by the way. I took a measuring tape in there to scout out, just in case.
Part of what makes the airport shopping experience appealing is that you’re trapped there. You can’t bring a bottle of water on from the outside world, because you could be a terrorist who could use that water to hijack a plane. I’m not sure how they do that, by the way. I think if you’ve reached the point where you can take over an airplane with a bottle of Dasani, you’re probably going to win.
A lot of people buy bags and bags of crap at the airport for the ride. I always get a bottle of water and maybe a candy bar, since you have no idea what’s available on the plane. The woman in line in front of me had a big white plastic bag full of food, like she had gone to the airport grocery store and stocked up on cold cuts and potato salad for the flight.
So after arriving and getting my boarding pass, I had some trouble passing through security at first, because you have to show them your picture ID. I have a lot more hair than I used to, and that seemed to throw the TSA guy off. “Sir, you’re clearly Sammy Hagar, but in your drivers license you’re more Poindexter from Revenge of the Nerds. Care to explain?”
And people always try and get something for nothing on these flights, like the guy who tried to bumrush the gate with two giant, unpaid suitcases under his arms while he loudly talked on his cell phone to what I would have to assume was another royal asshole. I think one woman tried to see if her kid could be classified as “carry-on.” None of these people were able to pull it off, by the way.
One thing exciting about the airport is the possibility of seeing celebrities. If famous people are going to get somewhere, they have to fly the same skies as the rest of us. However, I wasn’t flying on a major air carrier, so I figured the best we might see on our flight would be a C-list entertainer who had been on Celebrity Apprentice, or perhaps one of the other Baldwin brothers.
– Come back tomorrow for Day Two, in which Reid rides the airline known as “The Big Lots of the Air.”