So here I sit in the Atlanta Airport. Lots and los of people - too many people. What's so surprising is that most of the people - no offense - are old. Where are all of these old people going. Of course, every now and then you see the young mother, her hair matted down, strands of the it hanging to one side of her head. She pulls two crying toddlers - on of which is either arching his back and he crys in her arms or laying flat on his back sobbing into the floor. She drags the two young toddlers with the best of her might, while being laiden down with suitcases, stuffed animals and huge diaper bags.
It's a weird world this airport life. You either see people decked out in their fine italian wool suits, women walking around in four inch feels with their stylish yet sedate coach bag. Or you see young men wearing either spray painted on black levies or cargo pants carried not on the hip but at the knee (I just want to scream out - pull up your frigging pants and put a belt on - I must be getting old).
But these wacky people all seem to be going somewhere. While I'm not sure if I'm going anywhere.
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1 comment:
Now your off the island in the real world. These people are out there.
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