The people at the airports are the same people who walk the city streets among us everyday. They take our orders and give us orders. Most of the time they sit around and watch people around them as we watch them. On a normal day, they might reply with a smile if you send one their way first. Once in awhile, a “good morning” or “have a nice day,” might leave their lips in your general direction.

All of that changes once they get to the airport. People in the airport are not like they are in the streets. They don’t wave, they don’t smile, in fact, they only look into your eyes if you’re suspect. God forbid you should accidentally brush the hand of someone near you. If so, all bets are off.

They fuck you in the ass at the airport. That could be the reason why everyone is so up tight, so defensive. They’ve been asked to strip down to the bare essentials (which does not include shoes and pocket change), wouldn’t you be a little pissed too?

The best judge of airport character, however, might be yourself. An imperceptible change took place once I went through the metal detector. Initially, I didn’t notice it, but once I stood in line at the restroom, I realized that I wasn’t Jennifer anymore. I was airport Jennifer. Airport Jennifer DOES NOT like getting fucked in the ass.

A man in a turban was being searched at check-in. He was at least eighty years old and in a wheelchair. Mike and I looked at each other the minute we saw it–did he really think he would get by unscathed while wearing that thing? Two Park Avenue snobs sat across from me at the gate. The flight was late, but it was a personal attack on them. Two stewa–I mean flight attendants sat near each other, chatting. They didn’t know each other, but at the airport, all flight attendants speak the same language. They are an entire race unto themselves. One obviously unhappily married man pulled his Khaki pant leg up exposing a pair of ugly black leggings. He was filling in a cross-word puzzle. He kept cutting his eyes at his wife (they were the Park Avenue snobs). One very handsome young man kept ‘checking out the scene’ around him–so obviously looking for an attractive young woman–of course I was overlooked. And right when I turned around (a second before writing this very sentence) the man in the turban rolled up to the gate. He’s on his way to New York City. He flew first class.