On people watching, rednecks, and British Vogue.

I got to the airport to find that I got bumped to a flight 6 hours later. 6 hours! That is a long time to sit in Bradley International Airport, which is quite possibly the most boring airport in the world. Except that it has free internet. Oh, and rocking chairs. But there are only 5 of those. I went back and forth as to whether I should pick my car up from the lot (and probably pay a days fee!) or sit in the airport for those 6 hours. I chose the latter. I decided to read and people watch. I cozied up in one of the 5 rocking chairs Bradley Airport offers with a magazine in hand, so as not to make it obvious that I was actually checking people out. Because, you know, that is embarrassing.

I noticed an old couple, probably in their 80’s, slowly making their way through the terminal hand in hand. My heart smiled.

A woman in her 30’s walked by. She looked a bit disheveled with her worn coat draped over her arm and was crying a bit. I guessed that she probably just said goodbye to her children. I silently hoped she was going on a vacation that was likely much needed.

Then there was the business man, one hand holding an iPhone that was pressed to his ear and the other clasping his attaché case. I have no reason for writing about him except that I feel cool by writing the word “attaché.” Don’t hate.

Another woman walked by with these boots. These gorgeous yellowish leathery goodness boots. I fantasized about cat clawing her down and stealing them. Or just asking her where she got them from.

Then there was the 3 year old kid who was throwing a tantrum in the middle of the terminal. And the dad that had a look of horror on his face that said “I hoped he would not be that kid today.” But to the annoyance of every passenger walking by, he was that kid.

Oh! And then a young girl walked by with this OMG-gorgeous purse. Again, I dreamed about cat claws.

And then it happened.

This young man sat in the vacant rocking chair next to me and said with the thickest southern draw I have ever heard “What ‘cha readin’ ‘mam?” Anytime I am addressed by “mam”, I should know it is all downhill from there. I politely answered that I was reading a fashion magazine, respectively.

“I just started takin’ up readin’. I got me this book of pictures from last year’s Superbowl. It’s a good book.” And, if “mam” wasn’t clue enough, I should have know right there that his reference to reading a picture book was a good indication that I should up and move. Like, 5 minutes ago. But instead, I smiled and said “Yeah? It was a good game.”

And then the unthinkable.

He looked me up and down and said “I really like your boots. But the shirt’s gotta go. I hate the color.”

I jerked my head in his general direction, making sure he just said that to me? Taking note of his tattered farm jeans, steel toe boots, Mossy Oak hat embedded with a Bud Light bottle top, and shirt from circa 1999, I rolled my eyes and got back to reading British Vogue.

Oh, and “people watching.”

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