DETROIT, MI -- For as many times as I've flown out of Detroit Metro Airport on Northwest Airlines, I have never departed out of Concourse B or C. It's always Concourse A which is just a really long hall with 78 gates and some pretty fountains.
My amazing run came to a halt this Thursday when I flew to Richmond, VA from gate C11. To get to Concourse C, one must ride down a reeeeeeally long escalator in order to pass beneath the jets parked at their gates and then pop up on the other side.
On this morning, a lovely crisp Fall Thursday, it wasn't very busy at the airport. In fact, I breezed through the security line and was even considering whistling on my way to this foreign array of gates. Was I bound for jubilee? I was not.
Instead, I was bound to get behind the only other person in all of Detroit heading to Concourse C by way of this monster escalator. You know what's coming, don't you? Of course you do. Yes, he was walking in front of me, and there wasn't enough time for me to do the casual pass without being the butthead who looks like he's late for his plane.
Instead, I followed him to the 4000-ft. escalator where he stepped aboard and, as predicted, put down his bags and stood in the middle of his step to enjoy the ride to the bottom. No one is gettin' around this guy. No way. No how.
Now, I was in no hurry to get to my gate, I admit. But this just grinds my gears. It's just another example of the common man who lives in his own world utterly oblivious to his surroundings and without giving even an iota of consideration to his fellow common man who just may be a tad more destination oriented. I mean, it was a long freakin' ride down to the bottom. I'm sure out of the 25 people that actually read this page that at least one of you is "that guy." Well, just so you know, we all hate you.
The next morning when we reached the bottom of the moving stair machine, I was greeted with a tunnel reminiscent of an amusement park or a Las Vegas hotel lobby. The lights, the new wave sounds, and the mystique of this passage betwixt the Concourses was an unexpected experience - a memory that will last for days.
Oh, in case you were wondering, escalator standing guy actually walks on the people movers in the tunnel. What an assclown.
I spent a good part of the day on Thursday in Williamsburg, including dinner at an 1800s tavern and drinks in another one. The entire Historical Williamsburg region is a never-ending role play. These people aren't just dressed in character, they actually ARE from the colonial times from the store owners to the tavern magicians. While novel at first, it starts to become kind of annoying, especially when I was trying to enjoy my cornmeal pan-fried trout while Molly was blabbering on about her mom who owns the tavern and sister named Ebenezer. Thanks Molly. Buh-bye now.
On my flight home today, I sat behind a guy with such an incredibly misshapen frame of curly hair (loaded with gel, I might add) with random waves and really no definition whatsoever that I wasn't sure if I was sitting behind a man or an enormous piece of cauliflower.
Also aboard my flight was an Army Lieutenant on his way back to Ethiopia. I know this because at least 8 people asked him where he was stationed or where he was going while we were waiting at the gate, and then again as we boarded. And of course, every person who engaged him in conversation made a point to say thanks for his service. My thought is, I think he probably appreciates being recognized for his sacrifices, but does he want to be constantly reminded that he's going back to Ethiopia??? Let the dude enjoy his last few hours at Taco Bell or something and quit bothering him about where he's going. Also, I realized that standing in line next to that guy, I'm a fat ass. Uh, maybe cut back on the High Life there, Rayo - holy mother of guts. When my 5'8" fram starts pushing 165, it's time to reconsider the carb-loading strategy."