I’m positioned at a sort of standing desk in the middle of the terminal, looking straight out towards the masses. I can’t believe I didn’t have to put a token in to hang out here. I’ve stumbled upon the kind of real estate city-dwellers would beg for. Feeling lucky.
Some moments later, upon arriving at gate:
I feel let down by the individuals seated at Gate B18. I had anticipated the Portland, Oregon-bound crowd to be the physical manifestation of all things hipster, and that is simply not the case. Most disappointingly, I report that the ratio of flannel-wearing 20-something’s at B18 is proportional to flannel-wearing 20’s something’s found elsewhere in the airport. Have I been punk’d?
Not quite over it:
It’s possible that their inner hipster is bellowing through headphones, or tattooed carefully beneath long sleeves, but I can’t be entirely sure. The outward exterior is unremarkable and easily forgettable, much like me and no offense, you.
When Things Are As They Seem:
I respect the desire to go against the grain, but understand that predictability offers greater convenience. At the airport, I love stumbling upon patterns. I look for cities that embody particular attitudes. I smile at the southern accents that accompany a flight to Texas, and the expensive effort evidenced in the apparel of those bound for New York. It’s kind of comforting to know that each thing is in its right place, like a sock placed neatly in a drawer filled not with marshmallows, but other socks. Just go with it.
When Stereotypes Fail, and How This Relates to Life:
Of course, the world is not always predictable, and can often surprise. For example, just when you think you understand a particular person or place, an Indian woman wearing a sombrero takes a seat at gate B4, en route to Birmingham, Alabama. Wasn’t expecting that one.
A Tiny Tangent:
Which reminds me of this one time –I promise this will be quick, I also have things to do– when I was most surprised to learn that a fair-trade coffee shop in rural Vermont was planning to extend its hours from 7 PM to 3 AM, so as to host the state’s first ever Moonlight Pole Dancing classes. Upon hearing this, I decided that such an idea would never take off. Then, once reminded that Vermont prides itself on the support of local businesses, I reconsidered.
Conclusion, Because I’m done:
Unsurprisingly, ideas of What The World Is vs. What The World Could Be excite me greatly. In fact, I’m now so hyped up on the hypothetical that I’m forced to abandon my original point (for it’s since been forgotten) and am left hoping new material may form.
But until then, I leave you with a token of my affection, which is to say:
When in doubt, be different. If indifferent, just be you.