If you've clicked through the pages of this blog, you'll know I have a preoccupation with how people in airports drive me nuts. After 2 (or was it 3) posts about how much airport people make me want to tear out my hair, I thought that well had run dry. 

Then I went on another trip.

Why airport people make me crazy, round 3 (or 4?):

​#10) How does an adult woman pack a full-sized Pantene bottle of shampoo into her carry-on and then have the temerity to go postal on the hapless TSA worker who tells her to throw the bottle away? Anyone who has breathed in the past 15 years knows : little travel size. Anything larger can be a bomb. A bomb of fabulous lather and three natural conditioners, including jojoba.

#9) Let's take a quiz. Let's say the sign says: "1 carry-on and 1 personal item" Does this mean A) 2 rolling suitcases + a purse  B) 1 baby carseat + diaper bag + stroller + rolling luggage bag (per person)   or C) backpack (like one you would use for camping for a week) + guitar + 3 plastic grocery store bags full of gear. (If you answered all three, you win the prize.)

#8) Item #9 -- all of it -- attempting to be crammed into the overhead slots of a regional jet. And then being ticked off when it does not work. 

#7) Cell phones. Every time I talk about cell phones. For the love of puppies, overweight balding man in a wrinkled suit, you are not that important. We don't need to hear about how you're going to "give it to HR" when you get back. If anything, they are going to give it to you, and you know it. Ok, ok, let me spot you this one. Let's say you >really< needed to talk about how the 'project goals aren't being met', and you have to tell this to some poor sclump on the end of the line at FIVE FREAKIN' A.M. as we're waiting to get on the first flight out of hell. Then why don't you do the rest of the half-asleep, silent crowd a favor and step into a less-populated space to blab. Or is it that your wee-wee is so small that you have to do something -- anything -- to try and look important? Because dude, you're not impressing me. I freakin' cut babies out of humans and I don't yap loudly on the phone in public, trying to highlight how awesome I think I am. Ever. It's annoying. No one is that important. No one.

#6) Here's the picture. It's a crowded airport. Weather has set in. Flights are coming in late. People are running. It's obvious people are in a hurry because of the "excuse me"'s and "oh my God"'s that are being uttered as people...run. Let's say you're oblivious, maybe even old, but that's not a necessity. And let's say you're in the middle of the corridor of people, your head up as you take in the sights of the big ol' airport as you are chit-chatting to your equally clueless spouse/partner, and you are freakin' WEAVING as you walk. Slowly. Here's a rule: if you're a doofus, just walk on the side of the mass of humanity. That's all.

#5) TSA agents who are yapping about their weekend of boozing it up as they're motioning passengers to come on through. This? This is our protection between alive and being blown to smithereens? Two overweight dudes yukkin' it up about their latest "score"? 

#4) Gate agents who will not make eye contact. And God bless them, I understand that -- except for the poor guy in lost baggage -- gate agents might have the worst job that deals with the public. I get it. But really? No eye contact at all?

#3) Screaming babies. Ok, I don't mind that you're flying with a 3 month old, per se. What I mind is the fact that that child is in no way fully vaccinated and you are putting this kid at extreme risk by exposing him to countless dangerous germs, including those being exploded out of the old lady who has been coughing nonstop. With an inspiratory whoop each time.

#2) It's 2015. You've taken off shoes, belts, clothing, earrings, jewelry, watches for, oh, I don't know, FOURTEEN years straight. Why today, does this concept seem to elude you? Why did you just try to go through the metal detector with stilettos (like that's not a weapon?) and massive quantities of bling?

#1) Ok passengers, a little etiquette here. Let's say you are going to get on a cramped plane with 50-200 other people. Would it be too terribly much to ask that you could at least give yourself a little rinse-eroo within 48 hours of the trip? The combination of that man's B.O. and the turbulence almost had me tossing my cookies.

Apparently, the 20 previous items I wrote about weren't enough. I've encountered even more things that drive me nuts about airports on my recent travels. 

#1) Coughing. Without covering your mouth. For 1200 miles. Thank you, I expect to convert my next TB test to a positive result. Fabulous.

#2) Screaming…. wait for it ….. CATS? Apparently, pet sitters, cat hotels, or boarding are not adequate for these two mangy princesses. They are carried on, terrified, and wailing, for 1200 miles. Non stop meowing. I love my kitties, but I cannot take nails on the chalkboard sounds for 2.5 hours.

#3) People talking on the phone loudly in public. I know this item is a repeat, but it still drives me nuts. For the love of all that is holy, I don't need to hear about how "Bob is going to freak when HR tells him, that's BS, blah blah blah". Ok, if you're brokering a merger of, say, Apple and Microsoft, then fine, I'll spot you that one. You can talk loudly on the phone in public. Because that's pretty freakin' amazing. Anyone else? A little respect for those of us quietly reading our Kindles and wishing we were sitting on our couch at home. In silence.

#4) The people on the motorized carts who maybe SHOULD be walking more. Not the folks without legs or with cerebral palsy or who have had hemiplegia from brain trauma or a stroke. They can ride the cart. Those other folks who stopped at Cinnabon and then got back on the cart. Those folks should walk.

#5) Reclining the seat all the way back. In chicken class seating. Come on, man. I can't feel my legs now.

#6) 90% ice with a splash of soda. I've heard that's a flight attendant snarky thing to do, which I call foul on that, because I was very polite and smiled and said thank you and ma'am during my beverage request and receipt.

#7) Taxi drivers with potentially communicable diseases. Not talking STD's. And if the driver has those diseases, I don't wanna know. I'm talking about the very pleasant driver who was AUDIBLY wheezing and gasping for air during a 30 minute ride from the airport. I actually asked if he was ok, which I know is not the HIPPA thing to do, but I did want to know if I should be helping the guy out, Hippocratic oath being what it is. I should have pneumonic plague by Monday.

#8) Dogs in airports pooping on the carpet and customers do not clean it up. Mmm hmm. Yes. That one bears repeating. Dogs in airports pooping on the carpet and customers do not clean it up. On. The. Carpet. Not. Cleaned. Up.

#9) Legs in aisles.

#10) Sitting 6 rows away from the restroom you are not allowed to use, even when it's empty 90% of the trip. Sitting 39 rows away from the bathroom that is the portal to hell. And is "occupied."

1) Cups of ice with a splash of diet coke. (Come ON, just give me the rest of the can. I swear I can handle it.)

2) That toddler behind me kicking the back of my seat for 2 hours. Fabulous. Parents, ever heard of discipline, or are you just happy that ADHD/Junior is securely fastened in place by a seatbelt?

3) Inconsistent signage. (Thanks for directing me to pass through the exit/baggage claim, instead of veer off to the next terminal for my next flight. That was a fun re-TSA hour of my life I didn't have to spare.)

4) The flight attendant (can't call them stewardesses) with the really loud voice who is talking nonstop about safety (ok, important), miles earned (if I were a loyalty member, I would earn a free flight in, like 20 years), and destination information. It wouldn't be so bad, if she didn't pause to come up for air once. Like she's got  a third lung.

5) The pilot who I can never hear, who could be telling me about the distance to destination and the weather conditions, or could be telling me about how the right engine just blew a johnson rod and we are about to spiral into the face of the Earth.

6) "Thank you, come again. Have a good day, now. Buh bye." I don't think they mean it. Especially after dealing with some of the gems on this flight. If I were the flight attendant, the only enthusiasm I could muster would be to get these pudknockers off my plane ASAP.

7) The toxic brew of recirculated air + sneezing passengers. Thank you for giving me and the other 100 folks any of the other 600 viruses circulating. And that cough/spew/sneeze combo? Pure magic. I appreciate you both liquefying then aerosolizing your sputum. It makes it so much easier for my nasal turbinates to absorb. I should be in the ICU after the standard 7-10 day incubation period. I'll start making plans now.

8) >3 carry on bags. Seriously? Three bags that are HOW BIG? How the hell did you sneak that mass of expanded suitcases and ripped paper bags past security with a straight face? And you're panicked that you can't fit those items in the overhead compartment? Huh.

9) Aromatic food brought on board. Panda Express, anyone? Next to me in the regional jet? I'm pretty sure some of your sweet and sour sauce leaked into my single small backpack carry on. Appreciate that, pal.

10) Musak of music that is already very close to being Musak already. It's like an audible lobotomy.

1) Public bathrooms. Have you ever watched how many folks DON'T wash their hands afterwards? Ewwwwww. Ebola is the least of our problems, if we can't get this simple task hardwired into the public psyche. Go to tooter, wipe, then wash hands. With SOAP. Rinse and dry hands. You can achieve the twelfth level of Resident Evil. I know you can do this simple thing to prevent enterohemorrhagic e-coli. Or measles. Actually, with measles you're screwed no matter what you do. Good luck and get your MMR boosted.

2) Panda Express. Dadgum, my stomach just got queasy thinking about it.

3) Customer service reps who fake-type on their computers. I know those perfect, evenly spaced keystrokes in concert with your vapid expression cannot be connected to any aspect of reality. The entire dog and pony show was created by some psych major-turned customer loyalty director who did a study (n = 4) that showed lots of assiduous typing prior to a boarding pass being produced correlated positively with customer service experience.

4) People talking on cell phones. While talking to customer service reps. Or while getting fast food. Or while in the bathroom. Dude, seriously? No one, and I mean absolutely NO ONE is that important. EVER. Ever, ever, ever. And you, Mr. Wall Street talking loudly on you bluetooth while gesticulating wildly? You don't look super cool and business savvy. Just schizophrenic.

5) TSA. (If I say more, I'll probably get the special "cavity" search next time I go through security.)

Bonus) Personal space. Ok, I know the seats are narrow and you are not. But the armrests are there for a reason. Do not push them up so you can "fit in the seat" because that is a slippery slope which will result in my suffocation by the end of taxi and takeoff.

now for the good

1) Loyalty credit card that lets me jump to the almost-first-class-or-elderly-or-limping line for boarding.

2) BOOKS! Cannot stop flipping through books. Booksbooksbooks. Paper smell, book spines lined up in rows on shelves. BOOKS!

3) US magazine (or similar). The only time I flip through those glossy magazines is when I have to fly somewhere. I'm like Pavlov's dog. A little sniff of jet fuel, and I'm putting down 4.99 for a People magazine. Every single time without fail. 

4) Opportunities for brisk walks or runs down concourses, while dragging a mis-aligned carry-on bag. Shoulder tweaked, neck tweaked. Still missed flight, but yippee, if I jog another 1/2 mile in the other direction, I could make the next flight out. Exercise + business. What a swell combination. Too bad there is sweat under my boobs and I have to get off the plane and go to a meeting.

5) The little light on the plane that means aforementioned moron cannot use his cell phone for the duration of the flight. (Unfortunately, now, he's ordering Bloody Mary's -- hold the tomato juice -- at 7am. I will pray for a BAC of 0.35 which is the level of alcohol concentration that induces coma. Or surgical anesthesia equivalent. I'll be happy with either right about now.)

(Bonus) Panda Express (just kidding, please pass me a mylanta, my tummy is revolting against the mere contemplation of this airport food court choice)