The magic of airports and neck-hugging garments.

Next stop, Concorse C. The Color Coded Maps And Signs In This Vehicle Match The Station Colors. Please Move To The Center Of The Vehicle And Away From The Doors.

Airports. There is just something about them. Something serene and peaceful, yet chaotic and cacophonous at the same time. Balance. Maybe that's it. No matter the airport, I always feel like I'm at the center of the world when I'm there. Heathrow. LAX. Charles De Gaulle. Logan. Hartsfield. I know them all to well, and yet every time, it's something refreshing and mind altering. The constant flow of people coming and going continues to stir up excitement in my fragile yet hardened heart. I didn't think I would have time to post a blog while I was here, but surprisingly, security was easy on me today...so easy it's scary. Maybe it was my new sophisticated passport photo (see gallery for reference), or maybe because its my birthday, but nonetheless, here I sit, with somewhat ample time to type a few random words as the thoughts come to me, hopefully bringing a smile to your day.

So, wandering around after I passed security, I somehow find myself, here in one of those fancy-schmancy vip airport clubs...It's weird that absolutely no one has said anything to me being here, but hey; I'm not complaining, I've got a computer, free long-distance phone calls, a full bar, and I get to act important till it's time for me to head out. I'm dressed fairly nicely today, so that might give them reason to think I belong. That was my ingenious strategy back as an underage drinker...Before I went out, I would throw on a tie and dress-shirt: the fancier the better. I'm wearing a tie - that must mean I'm 21...right? Surprisingly, it worked! Sure, I definitely stood out at the dirty sport bars in Atlanta, my friends in jeans and torn t-shirts, but the bartender never questioned my legal manhood. Now that I'm of age to drink, the shirt and tie thing has become somewhat of a staple Frankisim when it comes to alcoholic consumption...something that I'm trying to work on. I'll go shopping when my plane lands.

While I'm on the subject of the mystical powers of clothing, I might as well tell you what I'm wearing right now, and why I am so worried. My nice boots, some 7even jeans with a cool belt buckle, a suit jacket, some phat new raybands, and a turtleneck...about 6 years ago, I promised myself that I would NEVER wear a turtleneck ever again, and now on this day, May 14th, the anniversary of my birth, I am breaking this personal pact. What is the source of my strong feelings against the 'turtleneck' you ask? Well, about 6 years ago, I was having coffee at a local Starbucks with my old pal, James Perry. At the table across from us, sits a woman and her baby, one of those bratty but cute babies. The ones that amuse you, but you're glad they aren't yours type of babies - you know the kind. So this baby is playing around in baby land, and falls into this brick fireplace center piece in the middle of the coffee house. The baby's head hits the brick! (I'm this far into the story and realize I shouldn't be telling you this, but I'll go on for continuity sake) The baby starts crying like hell! Now, there wasn't any visible bleeding, but the baby's head just had a hard-core make-out session with the fireplace, enough said. I was wearing a turtleneck that day...the soft fabric against my sensitive neck tickled my heart...and I made that apparent I guess...While others in the coffee house looked in concern at the baby and its mother, I held back laughter! It finally, got to a point where I couldn't hold it in anymore and I erupted with a laughing track that would put SNL to shame. It was horrible. My eyes turned red, and my grin was permanent. Cold surprising stares from students and coffee addicts were shot in my direction. I ran out of the coffee house and into my car to gain composure. Ridding myself of the neck hugging garment that I had earlier so affectionately worn, I left James in Starbucks to assure the strangers that I was indeed a good person with strong morals. Ever since that moment, I swore to never wear turtlenecks again. They harness some sort of power of brutal honesty and emotional freedom. It's scary to me. A power so strong, that for 6 years I avoided it. And now, it's making a comeback...in May nonetheless...who woulda thought? From now, till my plane lands, I am hoping that nothing catastrophic happens. God save me if someone trips. A funny outfit, crazy hair...for once, I hope I don't notice it. The airport is a wonderful place for fun crazies, and intense people watching, but for once; I hope my day is dull...at least until I change. I'm putting my powers to the test. I'll be sure to let you guys know who won...

Ironically enough, my calendar vocabulary word of the day is "Viatical", which means 'of or relating to travel'. How appropriate! Almost eerie...had it it said "Inebriated" I'd probably be more freaked out, as that seems to be the course of popular action tonight. Wow, I meant to write this blog about how I'm a year older...reflective revelations of the past blah blah, but this environment is too overpowering for me. The magic of airports and neck-hugging garments. I better down a drink, smoke a fag, and make a call to China before someone notices that I don't belong here...then...off to my flight!

Faithfully yours,
~Frank~