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You know, the mind is an amazing thing.
It has the capacity to come up with creative new kinds of charity, ways to convert one's one satisfaction into worldwide happiness.
It also has the capacity to turn even the most innocent, doe-eyed, kind-faced wizened old woman into Satan's best friend.
Given the right situation, everyone's an asshole. Lying in a desperate fetal position on a cold marble floor while an announcer drones on in two languages about the importance of keeping an eye on your baggage...it's the perfect asshole storm.
It really wasn't that bad, in the end. I mean, the sleeping part didn't really happen, but I did, you know, survive. It was actually funny to walk past all the bodies strewn all around. People tried everything, sleeping on their luggage, spooning their luggage, using their luggage to wall off their sleep space. There was one group that found a standing circle of luggage wheelie carrier things and had formed a kind of group cuddle puddle. I wondered, for a second, if I could join. Whether an airport at 3am knocked down some fundamental social boundary.
It doesn't. The woman at the cafe said I couldn't sleep in the chairs. Presumably because I was taking up space from their VAST clientele.
Yes. She was doing her job and she's an asshole for it. You see what I mean?
It has the capacity to come up with creative new kinds of charity, ways to convert one's one satisfaction into worldwide happiness.
It also has the capacity to turn even the most innocent, doe-eyed, kind-faced wizened old woman into Satan's best friend.
Given the right situation, everyone's an asshole. Lying in a desperate fetal position on a cold marble floor while an announcer drones on in two languages about the importance of keeping an eye on your baggage...it's the perfect asshole storm.
It really wasn't that bad, in the end. I mean, the sleeping part didn't really happen, but I did, you know, survive. It was actually funny to walk past all the bodies strewn all around. People tried everything, sleeping on their luggage, spooning their luggage, using their luggage to wall off their sleep space. There was one group that found a standing circle of luggage wheelie carrier things and had formed a kind of group cuddle puddle. I wondered, for a second, if I could join. Whether an airport at 3am knocked down some fundamental social boundary.
It doesn't. The woman at the cafe said I couldn't sleep in the chairs. Presumably because I was taking up space from their VAST clientele.
Yes. She was doing her job and she's an asshole for it. You see what I mean?
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