i hate airports
all the scents the lack of sense
everyone looks confused
unsure
as if the straight corridors are misleading
always a line to piss
short tempers
all in a hurry to get to nowhere but a wait
happy japanese couple, mid sixties came and tapped my shoulder for a picture
i turned and they said sorry and asked the guy next to me instead
it started bad
went through the scanner and all of a sudden my entire body lit up yellow
the man pulled me to the side
said he’d need to pat me down on the yellow areas
i laughed
even my head
he just glared
the lady behind me laughed
and offered it didn’t look like i had any weapons on my head
but i got rubbed all over
now i’m cordoned off by an aura of mistrust
a cute girl with blue hair said i wasn’t so scary and sat by me and we made small talk which was nice i guess
i’m bad at small talk a d tend to over share and ask questions that seem to be frowned upon
but she giggled and answered and asked as good as she got
she told me all about bourbon bars and distilleries and said she’d show me the sites
i smiled and said maybe which really meant no but in polite society you go through the motions
no matter the persona i go for in airports there is always one person that decides i’m the one to latch onto
eventually the japanese couple came around and asked about my tattoos
fortunately we boarded before i could ask them about bukkake and the finer details of tentacle porn
maybe i’ll bump into them and the blue haired girl and we will all do shots of bourbon and talk about godzilla and street side used panty dispensers
what’s wrong with me i wonder as i listen to the attendant tell me how to put on the oxygen mask
why can’t i be normal
then i look around me
maybe i am
maybe all of these people are just as broken as me
they just hide it better
and look better doing it
i don’t know
i hate airports
the scents and nothing makes sense