Passenger

Recently, I had the pleasure of making a trek halfway across this great country to the Grande state of Texas.  Along the way I had several observations, mostly because I had nothing else to do other than make observations.  Well, there was the 45 minute nap I took, and 15 minutes of faking a nap, but that may be discussed later.

Some entertainment for those that like to be entertained:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLhN__oEHaw

I began my journey by riding the MARTA to the Atlanta airport.  Yes, I said it "the MARTA."  For those of you that are sticklers for details I am aware that it is called Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, but that is just too much to type more than once.  I may just rename it the ATL plane place.  As I was sitting on the train I noticed that they had conveniently posted some rules for riding the train. (for those of you that are not a part of the Greater Atlanta area, MARTA is our rapid transit system that is comprised of a subway and a bus system.  It's not as good as NYC's, but it will eventually get you somewhere; maybe even where you want to be!!!) I found these rules very helpful, and thought maybe I should share. The list began with common sense rules you will see many places: no smoking, no weapons, no panhandling.  The last rule, and my favorite, no assault of MARTA employees. At first glance, this rule seems like a good one.  I definitely would not want to be on a subway train whose driver is being assaulted.  Seems like a recipe for disaster and a plot for several movies.  However, a couple of stops later I realize that they do not specifically forbid the assault of MARTA passengers.  Now if I had to choose, I would much rather have the MARTA employee suffer some abuse than myself.  Selfish?  most assuredly, but I like to think of it more as a survival instinct.  With great fortune, I made it to the airport sans any MARTA condoned assault of my self.

At the airport is where a majority of individuals seem to magically become farm animals.  Herds of them scurry around with a wide-eyed gaze indicative of a collective "HUH?" (use your best Scooby voice for that.)  Typical questions overheard as I make my way throught the airport:  "You mean I gotta check my bag?" (no, kind sir, you are the exception and may bring that armoire as your carry on bag. Oh you have two armoires? no problem  you are also allowed a personal item.)  Other favorites: "Am I in the right place?" (no).  "Do I need to take my belt and shoes off?" (in the security line of course.) Absolutely not, we would love for you to just come on throught with your shoes and belt that clearly have been laced with some undesirable Anarchist's Cookbook specialty.  Welcome aboard!

Overall, the trip was a good one. I landed safely, and even survived MARTA.  Subway trains and airports are grand places to take a few minutes to laugh at our species.  It is enjoyable to see just how many people can fit on a MARTA train before someone has to <gasp> sit next to another human.  It's as if we all suspect each other of being carriers for leprosy, or ebola. (one guy probably was as he hacked up at least a dozen lungs.)  The remaining mystery for the trip is exactly what happened to our pilot?  Before take off, he sounded like a typical southern male.  Just a hint of an accent, but a hardy good nature about his voice.  After we land, he sounded like he could be a Middle Eastern man. (not middle eastern USA)  voice was a bit harsh; I was certain that I was about to become a character in a not too distant historical drama film, but alas we were allowed to exit.  Maybe if we had not spent 30 days awaiting take off at the ATL plane place I would have been less suspicious.



I will keep my eyes open for more humor on my next flight.

Enjoy the entertainment posted and look for another post sometime in this lifetime. Unless i am assaulted on MARTA.Maybe I'll just get a MARTA uniform to wear when i travel on the train.