3 a.m.

So here I sit, in an airport.  It's 3 a.m. and I feel Like I'm on a different planet.  I'm making my way to Florida to see my best friend Hilda.  My flight leave around 5 a.m., so I took the last boat off the island.  You know what the weirdest thing about being in an airport at 3 a.m. is?

Aside from the fun in the air all around you, the hum of row after row of fluorescent lights, the strange person who wonders in the airport in the middle of the night wearing wrap around sun glasses carrying three huge trunks (and you secretively wonder how many dead bodies are in those trunks) who can sit anywhere in the whole damned airport but sits two seats away from you with their over powering men's cologne that would choke a horse but instead pollutes your nostrils.  Besides the blaring over head speakers proclaiming the free wi-fi internet service that doesn't work, or the chairs that are breaking what bones I still have left in my back.

The weirdest thing about an airport at 3 a.m. is listening to the escalator as it cycles over and over again.  Lord save me.

Okay, so now it's 3:25 a.m.  Hmm, what else should I tell you.  A scary, very large couple, she in a hot pink sweatsuit, he in baggy pants hanging so low you just want to scream - pull up you pants - just came in and jumped on the luggage scales with themselves and their luggage.   Needless to say, the lights begin to flash yellow - tilt - they are way over the weight limit.  Big news flash there.

Florida should be nice, I think to myself......hopefully sunny and warm.  I have to be honest with myself, I've never thought of myself going to Florida.  Oh sure, I had the ideas of going to Disney World with the children...but Florida itself no.  That's the land of old people.  Yet, I'm just about to turn 50 and AARP is knocking at the door.  Does this mean I have to get used to old folks land.  Hmmm......how many Lincoln Continentals do you think I'll see?