Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

  1. The brown club definitely hangs out at this airport. The only white people I’ve seen so far are Ian, a young girl wearing a silk skirt, bangles and a bare midriff and a tattooed family who are heading home to England. Someone on the intercom is looking for Passenger Bombidoodle. You can’t get browner than that.
  2. Next time I travel, I’m investing in cabin luggage that has wheels. Either that or a meet and greet service. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch, really. Today my aching back and forward head posture had golf cart envy. If you’re not fit enough to carry your carry-ons, either stay home or book a cart.
  3. I used to love people watching at the airport. The travellers always seemed to be beautiful people wearing glamorous travel togs, wheeling hard cased, lightweight luggage pieces that don’t need to expand because everything inside is silk and who needs extra undies and socks when you’re a jet-setter? Check-in luggage? Nah, that’s for amateurs. Today, everyone seems to be wearing a neck pillow, even before they get on the plane. I was standing behind a girl in the bathroom who was wearing a pair of light beige, skin tight, spandex shorts. There were no panty lines. I checked. On top, she wore a beige, cropped sweatshirt (I fail to see the point) that had a cream-coloured ruff. Her straight, long blond hair hung down her back to the top of her tighty beigies. I worried on her behalf because that’s what I’m good at. What if she sat on an errant m & m in the waiting area? Never mind trying to keep those shorts intact being jostled back and forth in the airplane toilet? Would she order cream in her coffee so that her spills matched her outfit or would she drink it black? I thought about all of this as she applied her make-up in the mirror and the turbo speed hand driver blasted the water from my hands onto the back of those shorts.
  4. The bathrooms are better at Pearson. They have a lot more stalls and a lot less people needing to pee. I am the only one at my gate drinking a Venti, no foam latte. When the time comes, I will choose my stall. And if it’s not clean, I will simply choose another one.
  5. I see absolutely no logic in traveling further West so that we can wait three hours at Pearson, then board another plane to backtrack our way East. Then again, the brown club is here. Plus there are those lovely bathrooms.
  6. Ian is making friends with the brown family next to him. He thinks the white dad looks like his brother Mark after a holiday in the Carribean.
  7. Our flight from Montreal to Toronto was delayed. I made everyone in my row panic when i told them we only had 30 minutes to fly into Pearson and make our connecting flight. Thankfully, I misread 22:55 pm as 20:55 pm and am now enjoying a latte large enough that I need two hands to hold it.
  8. The only passenger on the entire flight from Montreal to Toronto who reclined his seat was the gentleman in front of me and as he did so, a waft of pungent BO drifted back to our row. Maybe he misread the time of his connecting flight too and suffered a shart. Delays will do that to you. I didn’t dare look to see if he was wearing beige shorts as we deplaned. My son just read this over my shoulder and nodded his head in commiseration. See? Everybody notices these things and I write about them.
  9. Someone just started to sing happy birthday on the intercom. With all these people waiting at the gate, it’s bound to be somebody’s birthday, i guess. 

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