Baltimore Washington International Airport

I recently gained the interest of a certain young man whom I decided to have lunch with on Tuesday the 21st of November 2006. Needless to say, after staring into his eyes for what seemed like only minutes, I realized that was late and going to miss my plane. I had an hour and forty minutes to make it from DuPont Circle to Baltimore Washington International Airport. In short, I was the terrorist on the road that day. Had it been any other day besides the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I probably would have made it. I zoomed to the terminal amazingly not killing anyone with my driving or road rage, parking in hourly parking at $20 per day. I quickly parked at what I thought was the closest spot, but turned out to be the farthest spot. I ran to the ticket counter and they told me I was too late. My rage boiled over because I knew that was the last direct flight to Phoenix. I stood next to the ticket agent shouting at my mother when another African-American ticket agent said to me in a very loud voice, "Sir is everything alright?" I turned to her and smiled and said, "Yes, course." No, everything was not alright. I had just missed my plane because of my own stupidity, but not wanting an altercation, I complied. It was almost if I had it ingrained in me to comply for fear of being labeled a crazy person, a disrupter of the peace, a terrorist. I was booked on the flight to Las Vegas which left 4 hours later, where I would connect to Phoenix. I lost my first class ticket - major bummer. I walked back to the Garage to move my car to daily parking for a cheaper $10 a day.

When I arrived at my car there was a $50 ticket for parking in an authorized vehicles only space. The space was reserved for Homeland Security Vehicles. Bull Shit. Going through security I was randomly selected to be searched. They sent me through a machine that blew air all over my body, but I didn't mind because it was faster than the main line. While I waited for a very portly TSA security agent to search my bag, which unbeknown to me had several containers with liquid in that I had forgot to take out, that he didn't find, I noticed the main line as compared to the special line. The concentration of foreign looking people were coming through the special line, including every single passenger that looked like he or she was of Middle Eastern decent. Coincidence? I think not. I parked myself at possibly the worst airport bar I've ever seen. Debbie was my waitress. She looked like a creature from night of the living dead. She is significant because she had to be wearing at least 20 different "Support Our Troops" pins in addition to two separate "We Will Never Forget" WTC pins and two different Pentagon pins. I counted the amount of people I saw walk by with American Flags on their clothing over the course of three hours: 39. One woman was wearing a head to toe outfit clad in the American flag. I accidentally ordered a double Grey Goose and tonic when I wanted soda for my first round, Fuck ME. I didn't tell Debbie because she was clearly working hard enough for the amount of money she was getting paid, and I liked her, I felt sorry for her, but I left her a generous tip, which made me feel happy. I found it surprising that most of the people in the bar were not the ones wearing the American flag garb. Most were alone and most were reading what seemed like non-fiction books. One woman was reading *BARF* author and now diplomat Karen Hughes's book, Bush at War. I hated this airport and there weren't any hot boys to look at. The flight was uneventful and cramped. I envied the first class passengers as I boarded the plane. I was supposed to be up there. I could fight off a terrorist plot better than most of the people up there.

I arrived in Las Vegas. Lots of fat people. And cops. Lots of cops. I ran from one terminal to another in a successful attempt to catch the earlier flight to Phoenix. I noticed a correlation between fat people and people wearing patriotic clothing. I finally arrived in Phoenix at 230am Mountain Time - 7 Hours after I was originally scheduled to arrive. I made it to the rental car company, a west coast company, Fox Rent a Car. I kid you not; the rent-a-car woman asked me if I wanted a complimentary magnetic decal for my Chrysler 300 Touring (I thought it looked like the Bat Mobile. My brother later agreed) that said, "Support Our Troops." "They're very popular," she said. "I have three on my car." I thought, my god, I can't possibly see more examples of the War & Terror on my 2 hour drive to Sedona. WRONG. I must have passed three billboards before leaving Phoenix that said, "Support Our Troops" or "Democracy in America, Democracy Abroad".




I was so hoping the night was over, but alas I was in the desert and I needed water. Just before arriving at the Sedona Hyatt, at approximately 5am, I pulled into an AM/PM gas station convenience store. I gathered several large bottles of water when without me knowing it the batty clerk came up behind me and shouted, "The terrorists are gonna nuke us!" I jumped and dropped my supply of water. "Are they?" I said. He went into a long rendition of how the terrorists will get a nuke from Iran. He was wearing an American flag shirt, but he wasn't overweight. He was missing quite a few teeth, however.