I went to New Jersey a couple weeks ago, and used the Newark Airport as my transportation hub. This airport has always given me problems in the past but I don’t have any other option when I go visit me mum. So a few Sundays ago, Mom brought me back to the airport so I could return to Florida to continue baking in unemployment goodness. It was supposed to be an easy flight.
The flight was supposed to take off at 7:45pm and I would be back at my house no later than 11pm. But Newark doesn’t like to keep things that easy.
I get to the assigned gate and noticed that the Tampa flight isn’t even on the sign. Instead, a flight to DC was posted, and it’s departing time was 8:30pm. There was a tall skinny chick ahead of me, so I decided to walk up to her to see if she had any information. “Hey, are you here for the Tampa flight?” I asked. She turned to me, and I noticed she held a pretty newly born child. “Yeah, this guy said it was going to be a little late.” But of course. I think the universe would collapse if Newark ever ran a flight on time.
There was something about this girl though, that intrigued me. A few moments later, she asked me if I would keep an eye on her stroller while she went to the bathroom. “Um, sure,” I said while thinking, “aren’t you not supposed to leave your shit with strangers?” I obliged her and watched the stroller, doing my best to keep myself from putting any dynamite in a hidden pocket.
When she got back, she started talking. This girl was a talker. She rambled on and on. She told me her baby was only 6 months old and that she had never been to a strip club, but that she is afraid of dollar bills because she “knows” where some of them end up at a strip club.
She also doesn’t like flying on planes with someone wearing a turban. Isn’t the White Race glorious? Like we white people never did some crazy shit? Did she not know about the Oklahoma City Bombing? Or Columbine? If anything, I hate getting on planes with white people.
She rambled about everything except who the father of her baby was. And since she brought up strip clubs so much, I was pretty convinced that she was one, even though she claimed to have never been to one. The only hypothesis this science experiment could draw was that this girl was a dirty stripper, and had sex without following the Three Ps.
And not to change the subject, but today’s picture is the first one I’ve drawn with a mouse in a few weeks. The mouse is back kids.
Stripping for Change (7/2008)
After 2 hours and 2 gate changes, we finally boarded the plane. She got to get on first because she had a baby and what not. “So long,” I said. She replied, “Thank you for helping me out. My boyfriend will be happy to know someone was helping me without hitting on me.”
Wait a second. You have a boyfriend? Maybe she said that because she thought I wasn’t the keen detective I was. I had figured out her secret. No matter what rubbish she fed me about a boyfriend and what not, I knew it was all lies. This girl had sex in the champagne room. In fact, she was the room.
She sat in the row in front of me on the plane. I could often hear her talking to the person next to her, laying in thick the same shit she spewed at me. I swear, these repeater types are fucking malfunctioning humanoid robots. Why do people do that all the time? Tell something a bunch of pointless shit to anyone trapped near them.
Wait, I think that’s what this blog is doing. Sorry. Speaking of which, I’ve been trying to watch Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire. Can anyone tell me if this movie actually goes somewhere? Oh wait, there it goes. I think… oh wait, no. My bad.