Seeing all the Red Sox shirts while traveling, doesn't matter where in the states because they're everywhere, is comforting. If the world ended, it's nice knowing that there's usually someone always around that you can strike up a conversation with.
I don't want to sit around, planning for various End o' the World scenarios, but flying really means you're just sitting around waiting & waiting & waiting, so you really have to do what you can to not totally lose your mind. For instance, this morning I was completely amazed by how many hot women, all married, were at the Philly airport on an early Sunday morning. Three Bloody Marys, one spicy and the others not, and the minutes that pass while waiting for your delayed flight to leave are the longest minutes in the world, next to the minutes spent lying in bed in the middle night when you're dead tired and can't sleep. There's no bars in my bedroom though, so those minutes are usually spent just thinking about old girlfriends, NBA playoff scenarios, and future living arrangements.
It seems though, that every time I fly, I see a girl walk by who resembles an ex-girlfriend. Sometimes, the gal is almost a dead-ringer of an ex and I almost think it's her. I've seen Chicago Molly lookalikes at numerous American airports and this morning I was almost convinced that Beth, a gal I dated senior year in Baltimore and haven't seen since, was on the same flight as me. Slumped against a wall, waiting for the plane, I kept looking at her, wondering if maybe this was Beth. It's been a few years and crazier things have happened on a slow-motion Sunday morning.
But it wasn't her and like most of the women in the airport this morning, it looked like she was either married or engaged. Before we boarded, she was talking on the phone and doing so with the girlfriend-talking-to-the-boyfriend smile. It's the same when dudes have the boyfriend voice. Girls have the girlfriend smile. It's a comparable deterrent to the wedding ring or extra lb's- just better to look at.
On the flight today, a straight-shot across country to sunny San Diego, most of the flight seemed to be all together, co-workers on a work field trip. I had no idea what they did and watched as the one dude next to me typed away at spreadsheets and emails that dated back to 2006. I wondered if this fella liked his job, if pouring over these spreadsheets and old emails, was a fun thing for him- something that reved his engine. I became kind of thankful that I have a job I like, one that I enjoy doing and when doing the work, 90% of the time, I dig it. Does that make me lucky, fortunate, or just another dude with a job?
Right now, it makes me tired and later in the week, it'll make me sunburned. After that, I'm not entirely sure and that's part of the draw.
So now it's chilling in San Diego, hearing the Padres game across the street, and waiting for the planes to start flying. The first hot girl I saw here had a wedding ring on too, so while that's not nearly as comforting as seeing a few people with Sox shirts on at the airport, it's at least nice knowing that all the way cross country, some things are still the same.
Now if only the time was the same, I'd be golden.
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