Tuesday, October 23

Douché

Early start required to get to Milwaukee, and the idiots have already escaped.

Walking down the corridor to security, I'm overtaken by a couple.

Him: Navy blue blazer, Bermuda shorts, those shitty tassel loafers. Slicked back hair.
Her: Made up to the nines, black everything including short cropped leather jacket. White hair, sunglasses perched on top.

Both in their late 50s.

They proceed to stand very close to the guy in front of them in line. I guess they are running late.

Get to the x-ray machine, and the guy decides he doesn't need to wait in line. He has no bag, so he waltzes on through leaving high maintenance wife in line in front of me.

Only problem is that nobody pushes his shoes through the machine, so he's left the other side of the machine waiting and waiting.

TSA guy finally shouts "Whose shoes are these?". Wife is oblivious.

I choose to say nothing.

She off-loads her bag but then has to be told to take off her jacket ... then her shoes ... then her belt ... then her sunglasses. Usually I hate when the TSA people wring the job out like a retarded bar rag, but on this occasion it was pure theatre.

I follow and stick to her like glue. I need to hear their conversation when I get through the other side.

He's pissed because he "Cannot find his shoes". I leave them and go get coffee.


And here I am waiting for my flight to Milwaukee. Lo and behold they are on my flight. They were not late. Just dicks.

Who wears a blazer and Bermuda shorts to Wisconsin in October?

Oh Yeah! Dicks.

Douché my friend. Douché

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