airports

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

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