The Airport

So I was sitting in the airport this morning and I observed a most remarkable example of human psychoses. After laughing about it to myself for a while I thought: what better forum to remark on the remarkable than diasporatic? But first, the news...

As you may have guessed from the fact that I was at the airport, I got a report date! I am reporting to USS MASON on June 20. That's wonderful news for me because it means I have just enough time to fly out to LA and drive cross-country with Arlene! As you all know, I love road trips (Arlene is pretty cool too) so this should be a great couple of weeks. I'll keep you guys posted about my adventures during our transcontinental trek if there are any.

Also, I want to take a quick moment to acknowledge Tommy Roberts. About 3 hours after I posted my last entry ("McGrady's") I got a phone call from Tommy. He had subscribed to Diasporatic and had read my post. Apparently he felt so sorry for me that he called me and invited me to come have a pint with him on the corner. Of course I accepted, bringing my drink total for the evening to a grand total of two pitchers, one pint. I don't think Tommy realized how much I appreciated his gesture and enjoyed his company. So here's to Tommy! Also, it gave me no end of satisfaction that Diasporatic had been the instrument which had brought us together at that table in The Virginian.

NOW for my airport anecdote. My flight was supposed to leave at 6:33AM (it didn't actually leave till 7:30, but that's another story), so I arrived at the airport before the sun was fully up. Needless to say, at this hour the airport was fairly empty. In fact, after I got through security I was the only person sitting in my departure area. After about ten minutes another man showed up. He was a shortish, fiftyish, well-built man with thinning brown hair and slightly pointed, terrier-like features. He looked a little like Vladimir Putin, actually.

The first thing I noticed about him was how confused he looked. He seemed to be totally overwhelmed by the decision of which seat he should take. He had his choice of every seat in the departure area (probably 60 seats) with the singular exception of mine, and this was just too much for him. Should he sit next to the window? Or near the gate? Or over next to the television? I watched as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot and I could almost hear his pulse quickening as the impossibility of the choice overcame him.

I noted all of this with passing interest and presently decided to get up and visit the men's room. As I got up and walked past him, I noticed that he seemed to have made a choice. He visibly calmed and the deer-in-the-headlights look which had been in his eyes was replaced by a look of triumphant purpose. I idly wondered which he had chosen, but didn't bother to look. Therefore it was a great surprise when, upon my return, I discovered that he had taken my seat: an entirely unremarkable seat in the middle of a row with nothing at all to recommend it over the others except that it had been mine. Of all the seats in the building, he had taken mine! Apparently, upon seeing me vacate my seat he had suddenly realized it was the best.

I am not sure what this indicates about human nature, but I am pretty sure it spells the end of America. Is it a lack of creativity? Are people just so uncreative that they cannot even make a choice as simple as where to sit? Or is it timidity? Is there some unconscious fear of an unblazed trail (or in this case, an unwarmed seat?) Or is it jealousy? Are people simply incapable of valuing something unless someone else values it first? Or is it something else?

Or am I wrong in assuming that this means anything general at all?

Thoughts?