Musings on the Chicago International Terminal

It's FINALLY May 12th. The day I leave. I had trouble falling asleep because I had that funny feeling in my tummy when you get all excited, like when you were little and Santa was coming. Same thing. You kind of want to puke, but in a good way.

So here I am, in the Chicago International Terminal, the portal to traveling the world. You would never know the great destinations people head to from the looks of this place. It is grade A boring. The moving sidewalks (a personal favorite due to their support of the lazy, yet tired traveler) don't work. There isn't anywhere to eat. I actually made the mistake of going through security thinking I could just grab something on the other side when I got hungry, nope. There are several places where you can get a beer; however, you must be 21 even though the US is pretty much the only place in the world where you can go to war but can't drink away the memories of it. So I left the gate and went to McDonald's. My last American meal for awhile, I figured I'd do it up right.

So the main form of entertainment, besides tetris, is people watching. The variety of people here is awesome. The accents, ways of dress, and mannerisms differ from group to group. The way of dress is probably my favorite. There is apparently, more than one airline that requires their stewardesses to wear hats that look kind of like a cross between the traditional Mountie topper and a fedora. I kind of want one.

My prospect for this flight should be interesting. There are 2 children under the age of 6 about 100 feet from me eating candy. Awesome. And, their travel companions are a couple with a baby who is being pushed wildly around the gate by a 4 year old. But the little boy just waved and smiled at me, granting him more leeway to be obnoxious on the plane. The longest I've flown at one has been like 3 hours, tops; this flight is 9 hours. I'm stoked.

¡Les pierdo y hasta luego!