My old friend Brad met me upon arrival to take me out for a SoCal staple--sushi. I was among the uninitiated, but I didn't throw up, and thus far I'm showing no signs of e-coli poisoning. It's amazing how quickly your food gets to you when they don't have to cook it.
After a long day of flying our fair commercial skies, I've noticed a couple of things:
- I have a theory that the only real, operating gates are the ones at the very end of the terminal. No matter how often I fly, I never fly from any gate other than the very last one. If a terminal has gates 1-72, my flight will be leaving from either gate 71 or 72. This is true of everyone else I've ever asked about it too. My theory is that the other gates are actually staffed by underemployed actors, with fake planes parked outside. No flights actually land or take of from there.
- Attention America: the people-mover is not for standing. It's for walking. If you stand on it, it actually moves you slower than you'd get there by walking. However, if you put forth the minimal effort to walk on the people-mover, you'll find yourself hurtling through the terminal at an exilerating speed that allows you to pretend in your mind that you are the Bionic Man. Or maybe only I do that. But either way, if you actually stand on the people-mover, just know that you are one of the elite, most sedentary people in the most sedentary nation in the history of the world.
- I'm six-foot-two, about 220 lbs. There were 36 rows on the plane I flew out on. If you count each side of the aisle seperately, there were 72 rows of three seats. And once again, I found myself sitting in the middle seat, smack dab between two people who were both substantially bigger than I am. They were the biggest people on the airplane. The odds against it are staggering. I'm convinced the check-in agents do this on purpose to amuse themselves.
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