So There We Are in the Airport

Juneau International Airport is as big as a semi-truck. You turn around too fast and you’ll goose the person next to you. Trust me – we have one carousel, you aren’t going to get lost in our airport.

If you do get lost, you probably shouldn’t be driving or using sharp utensils. For that matter, put the pen down and back away from the escalator before you hurt someone.

So there we are in the airport. Myself and two co-workers. We’re supposed to pick up 12 guests who are joining a yacht in town. This is the part of the operation when my hands start to get sweaty.

Why?

I’m terrible with names.
Truth be told there are times when I can’t remember my coworkers’ names.
Yeah, well the problem is we’ve worked together for five years some of them!

So matching people up to their luggage….makes me sweat.
I would rather stand up in front of 300 people and discuss the slow process of making a cat hair ball than deal with 12 people’s luggage.

A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Brown will have upwards of five pieces of luggage between the two of them. FIVE. One piece carries the kitchen sink and the other the housekeeper. Honestly, what are these people thinking? I’m worried the housekeeper isn’t going to make it to the yacht so I’m double checking and triple checking everything. Heaven help us if the sink doesn’t make it, I don’t know what they’re going to do without fresh water.

Seriously.

So there we are in the airport. Of course standing tallest to shortest. Me being the shortest and our operations manager the tallest. Bless the dispatcher who is between us. I don’t know him very well yet when he turns to me and says, “Do you think they should get a room?”

What?

“Do you think they should get a room?” Dispatcher guy then makes eyes towards the luggage carousel.

What?

OH.

Wow.

I’ve been engrossed in my preoccupation that we’re going to loose the housekeeper, sink and probably an entire set of encyclopedia Britannica in this luggage – I didn’t even see the two who are nearly horizontal on the conveyor belt.

Then of course, once someone points that out all you can do is stare. And yes, I made eye contact with both the male and female belt performers. Either we were in the middle of a Benny Hill skit, or we were about to be Punk’d. I’m not sure I’d enjoy either but can I ask, “what the hell is she wearing?” I’ve got it! This is an episode of “What Not to Wear!”

Let me paint a picture:

30 feet in front of you she stands:

She has knee high black boots – flats, no heel.

Brown, holey stockings. Not holy, holey. Some kind of pattern. Not random holes.
But full of holes none the less, which from a distance make the hose look like they’ve taken a beating and has runners everywhere. That’s hot.

Jean shorts. Short. Jean shorts.

Baggy gray sweatshirt. We’re talking a step back into the 80’s with a Flashdance moment. I’m waiting for her to rip off her boots and have dancer tape on her feet and water to come dumping down from the ceiling.

The crowning accessory: A crochet white scarf thing, that hung around her shoulders that appeared to be something she stole from the back of her grandmother’s couch.

I look at our operations manager and inform him, it’s obvious she’s a transplant….Alaska girls would be wearing knee high X-Tra Tuff boots. Where’s my number rating cards when I need them?

5.3 for Alaska appropriate
8.9 for originality
10.0 for tongue performance

As the three of us continue to ponder the situation. Hands are groping – on the conveyor belt couple – not us! They’re snuggling, kissing, hugging, patting, rubbing and generally gyrating on the spot.

Finally I figured it out. On line dating.

I think they’re meeting for the first time.

I announce out loud, “If I have to see any more tongue, I think my retinas are gonna have a hole burned in them.”

Right about this time my first passenger arrived with their four pieces of luggage. You can imagine my disappointment when 15 minutes later I look up only to see the performers have left the building. I wanted to see what kind of luggage she had. My guess was something the size of a change purse…as the only sightseeing they’ll be doing is down their throats and beyond.

Take it outside please! Or charge admission.

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