The Airport Incident

Hi.  My name is Lauren and I have latent anger issues.

This only just occurred to me while I was working out this morning. 

Truth be told, many things occur to me while I am exercising.

My to-do list lengthens, my weekly meal plan comes into existence, the cobwebs on the ceiling turn neon and flash the message MWAHAHA, and I suddenly realize the next 345 steps I must complete in the data clean-up/conversion mess that is sitting on my desktop.  And then, once I am thoroughly exhausted, I fantasize about floor plans.  Don’t ask.

I bet I actually burn an entire day’s-worth of calories just thinking about all the things I need to do once I finish exercising.  It’s sort of like Charlie Bartlett on Ritalin (this will not make sense to you unless you’ve watched the movie Charlie Bartlett).

But today, of all days, I started thinking about The Airport Incident.  

The Incident occurred in the London Luton airport, on our way from London to Paris.  We had just reached the end of an excruciatingly long line, and were ready to check our baggage, print our boarding passes, and high-tail it to our flight because, as it happens, we were very short on time.

Unfortunately, we got stuck with Miss Incompetent at the ticketing counter.  The issue (of which I was fully informed), was like this: She was supposed to clock-out in fifteen minutes, but, as her replacement had arrived uncharacteristically early, she didn’t know if she should finish her shift (WHAT?).  To her, this apparently constituted the perfect excuse to remain on-duty, but stare absently into space rather than work. 

It went something like this: she would glance at her computer, ask a question, and then stupidly shift her attention to the left-hand corner of the ceiling where she would remain, transfixed, for several minutes until it occurred to her that we were still standing there; repeat. 

I.  Wanted.  To.  Kick.  Her.

Instead I just stood there, in polite silence, for what seemed an eternity.  (Actually I think I’m still standing there).

This morning (while working out) I imagined An Alternate Scenario: 

It begins with me snapping my fingers in her face (despite the fact that I hate it when people actually do this in public).

Then I say something like this: Excuse me, you lazy, incompetent idiot, but we have a flight to catch.  As you are still on duty, you are required to assist your customers.  If you can’t manage to do that in a semi-efficient manner then I would like to speak with your manager.

This is followed by the part where I get her fired.

… You’d think this would be enough to satisfy me, but every time I recall her pale blue eyes staring at the ceiling I feel just as infuriated as I did a full two weeks ago, when The Airport Incident actually occurred. 

And that’s how I know I’ve got a problem.

... Nothing that a really good cup of coffee and a snarky blog post can't cure, though.