Since I've Been Gone, pt. II Pt. II
On an aside, a few things have come to mind in my time here in Detroit-Metro International Airport.

1. Beautiful, blonde, beer-drinking women make the world go 'round. They do. I know it.

I sat down at Chili's, Too for a quick bite and for some reason, the seat next to me stayed fallow until this very pretty blonde girl, wearing one of those "chic" psuedo-retro t-shirts with the iron-on letters spelling out "Louisiana Is For Lovers" took the spot.

She ordered a Bud Light and was asked for her ID. She was 28. She was blonde. She was from Louisiana. She was carrying Vonnegut's "Breakfast of Champions. But it doesn't matter, really. She was beautiful, blonde, beer-drinking, and it made my day.

2. TI's "Bring 'Em Out" is not just the song I've heard roughly 2,500 times since November, 2004. It is just universally a great song, not just for the 4:00 mark when your favorite college basketball team comes out of the tunnel for their last pre-game layup lines. It's great for people-watching. And ESPECIALLY for people who are people-watching people who are on those people-moving sidewalks. And ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY when you're stationed at the end of the moving sidewalks, watching an entire population trip and stumble. Welcome to today's episode of Airport Schadenfreude.

3. Nothing by Bright Eyes is universally anything. That's semi-nihilist, and mostly accurate. Not to say I don't like the guy, sometimes I just don't get it.

Ok, back to the X-Mas blog and where did I leave off? Oh that's right...

Pulling my one bag behind, I hauled ass to the Continental ticket gate.

In a former life, I was a runner. By runner, I mean "guns-goes-off and I try to hurry back across fields and up hills and stuff" kind of running. Frank Shorter. Bill Rodgers.

This time, I was a running back. I was finding holes like Barry Sanders, cutting back like Reggie Bush, and leaping and dodging folks like OJ Simpson in the Hertz commercial a few years back where he was in an airport (one main difference between me and the Juice was the lack of a dead white girl on my conscience 20 years later on my birthday, but I digress)

It was impressive. One of the skycaps had my 40 time at 4.4.

I got to the ticket desk and a long line greeted me. 10:42. I left my bags unattended - generally a pretty unwelcome action in airports these days - and ran to the gate. I think the woman knew I was late, knew I was the only guy who hadn't checked into Continental flight 1619, and answered my questions before I even asked:

"Hi, I..." CHECK IN NOW BEFORE THEY CLOSE THE FLIGHT OUT...
"But, I need to..." DON'T WORRY ABOUT YOUR BAGS, GET THEM LATER...
"I'm checking..." I HAVE YOUR BAGs COMING RIGHT NOW (amazingly, she did.)
"Ok, which gate..." GO TO THE EMPLOYEES ONLY GATE, TELL THEM YOU'RE LATE
"Mer..." MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU, TOO, SIR.

Amazing. I continue the Corey Dillon imitiation throughout the terminal, run past all sorts of folks, including prep basketball stat Greg Oden (he tall), and make it to my gate, where I find myself in severe anaerobic pain...and a 15 minute delay. Time enough to slip into the President's Club for a couple of donuts and a couple cups of coffee (I just exercised, I earned it), and perhaps a call to my folks to let them know I made my flight...that is, when I was able to absorb some oxygen into my blood.

The flight was crowded, but quick. Just an hour and a half later, plus an hour due to the whole time zone thing, I arrived in Newark's Terminal C. It was 2:10.

A quick glance of the departure screens had my connector to Providence at Gate A119 at 2:40. Plenty of time.

Not quite. To get to Terminal A from C, you need to take the AirTrain. To take the AirTrain, you need to leave the secure area. To get back into the secure area, you have to go through security. And to go through security, you needed to wait along with the rest of the 10,000 people who needed to get through. Timecheck: 2:20. I'm going to miss my flight.

And an aside, which engineering genius thought it would be a great idea to require a security re-check going from terminal to terminal? I mean, really, who throws a shoe? When in Rome.

I see a guy pacing back and forth, with an airport employee ID card hanging from a lanyard, and a "I Heart Continental Passengers" button. I decided to test that theory.

"Hi, I'm going to miss my flight." After a quick glance at my boarding pass, he replied: "Yes, you are."

Not quite the response I was looking for. If I wanted to hear that, I'd have looked for the guy with the "I Tell Continental Passengers Bad News" button.

I asked it there was anything he could do, even suggested using the employee security entrance, like the Archangel of the Airport in O'Hare had set up for me. He walked me to that gate, in spite of the dirty looks from the folks in the cattle line and the general dismay of the TSA agents. Whatever.

Time check 2:30. Flight was at 2:45 - slight delay - so instead of pulling a Curtis Martin (hey, it's Newark, close to the Meadowlands where the Jets play, might as well use #28 as the point of reference) to gate A119, I just had to briskly walk. And I made it in time.

Ok, more when I arrive back in the MKE.

One.  ¶ 4:06 PM