Stuck At the Airport

Being stuck in an airport is an interesting thing. There are so many different people all around. Everyone is heading from one place to another with one purpose or another helping them to get from point A to point B. They come in all different shapes and sizes, colors, and however else one would use to describe how we are different from each other. Best of all you see mullets. I’ve seen two mullets so far. One was of the garden variety—just a little long in the back, to show off his connection to the 20s. Another one was a great long hockey mullet. Those are the best in my opinion—fans showing their true pride for a sport that at the moment doesn’t support its fans. Rather, owner and player are bickering about who should make the most money. Now, I might be showing my lack of money—I would assume that once one has achieved a certain amount of money, then getting more wouldn’t be a necessity. I guess I’m just a poor man trying to think in the ways of a rich man.

Back to being stuck—I've been here since 3pm. I entered the airport labyrinth at 11:45am this morning by having my bag and suitcase completely unpacked and searched. From there I went to the metal detector and was promptly pulled aside for more investigation. They clothed my shoes to make sure I wasn’t laced with a bomb and then finished it all off with a pat down. From there I went upstairs to be gouged by the snack bar. I paid $2 for a Styrofoam cup of ice with a little Coke poured over it. How to people not feel guilty working in those places?
Just wait, it gets better. After setting down to wait on my boarding call, I soon heard a sweet lady come over the loud speaker offering up the information that my flight had been delayed. It seems that security at the airport in Cincinnati allowed a security breach. That held up the plane that I was waiting on to fly to Cincinnati. Needless to say, I missed my connection in Cincinnati. So, now I'm stuck here in a plastic chair, slurping on a more moderate priced Coke, watching the people going to and fro, and listening to some Ricky Skaggs bluegrass music. (One must listen to bluegrass when they are in Kentucky. I know, I know, Cincinnati Airport in Kentucky is not logical. I didn't put it here!) Only an hour and a half more to wait. Yippee.