He was in his mid 40’s, Caucasian, about 5’8”, and skinny. Animated, he was having issues with someone on the other end of his Blue Tooth. Not in a hurry, not creeping, just occupying space, he sort of plodded down the middle of the airport corridor seemingly talking to no one, loudly.Picture this: tennis shoes, white socks, khaki cargo shorts, pink polo with popped collar, blue blazer, and an orange ball cap with salt and pepper hair spilling out the back and sides. Of course, with the Blue Tooth appendage sticking out of one ear.
At the Detroit airport, between the A and C gates, there is a lighted corridor about three football fields long. The ceiling and walls are curved forming a half circle. Glass panels mounted along length of the walls and on the ceiling flash, strobe, and blink pastel colors that give off an aural feel. All the while sounds of the ocean and cosmos play on hidden speakers. As you traverse the hall on the moving walkway, you are subjected to a spectral, almost other worldly spectacle.
Halfway through the hall, not really seeing light from either end of the terminals, Blue Tooth man was looking around and turned his gaze on me. He was back lit by an explosion of lime, pink, and baby blues. Just happened to be close to a speaker at the time blasting out strange cosmic sounds. Right there, as the lights danced around him and the music invaded my head, my vision narrowed to a small bore and I lost by sense of direction, drawn into what I can only call a trance like state.
Then it hit me. Dear goodness, Northwest airlines put tainted mushrooms in the little bag of peanuts they gave me. I’m tripping. That just happened. I will fall down right here, eventually getting scooped up by TSA and thrown into the drunk tank in the dungeon like bottoms of the airport, sucking my thumb and mumbling about the blue finger coming out the strange man’s ear and the sparkly things on his head.
No momma, I don’t do drugs. I’m a good boy, I swear.
Wanna talk about crazy? 40 year old wearing a pink polo, rocking the popped collar? Come on.
1 comment:
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