First of all, big thanks to Uncle Eric for rousing himself out of bed early on a Sunday morning to drop us off at the airport. Anything to get rid of us.
We’re here are at the airport getting ready to board our flight. It’s 7:12 am, we’ve passed through security in an unusually uneventful way. The little one typically gets pegged as some sort of high security risk and we generally nearly get carted off to the airport equivalent of Guantanamo. This time, however, not so much. I think that we will only fly Virgin from now on.
The Virgin waiting area is a sea of coolness. It’s about twenty minutes old. All red and white graphics and blue glass tiled bathrooms. Touch screen computer monitors and multi ethnic passengers are everywhere.
We are hopelessly out of sync with the rest of the way hip flyers waiting to board the plane. It’s as if the crowd has been vetted out by some sort of selection criteria board. I imagine what their checklist might look like.
Qualifications to fly include/but are not limited to:
Possession of:
I Phone/I Touch/I Pod
Laptop
British accent
Pithy sense of humor
Some sort of fashion sense
Ability to pull off above mentioned fashion sense that may include the wearing of Uggs and fedoras
We clearly have been allowed to fly under some sort of “special admissions” program that allows the tragically unhip/uncool to mingle with the rest of humanity. I’m feeling like the best we can do is not draw attention to ourselves. It's not gonna be easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment