So Superbowl Sunday is approaching, and I am scheduled to hop on a plane out of Newark airport and head to SoCal to see a family member, some friends from school, and catch the Super Bowl. At the last minute my ride to the airport had to cancel. I was forced to attempt to grab a ride with Uber. I use Uber about once a year, and each time I do, the learning curve is painful. I can feel angst brewing as I’ve never used Uber to go to the airport, and there is dangerously little time to spare. You combine that with my overall distain for hand-held technology and my stomach now has something to be volcanic about.
Miraculously, I connect with any number of potential Uber drivers. It’s as if a dozen drivers are parked at the end of my street, waiting for me call. They can all be at my address within three minutes. My driver gets me to the airport in record time. I cruse through security unscathed (pinch me, am I still alive), and walk to my gate in Terminal C.
At my gate, the emergency door alert is stuck on. The piercing high pitched noise is easily at migraine-pain level. And my hearing aids are having a field day weaponizing the volume of the noise even further. It’s as if they’re mocking me, saying, “Look how unbearable I can make this noise for you.” God forbid they actually make a low-talker’s voice audible in a restaurant. I’m at a point where it felt like I had two Ginsu steak knives going through my ears, trying to meet in the center of my brain.
In an effort to escape the noise and avoid an aneurism, I decide to investigate the various new eateries within enhanced Terminal C. I’ll be dining with the folks at “The Panini Shop.” With my early arrival, I had the time to grab my meal and sit at a table to eat in a somewhat civilized manner.
My meal of choice is the Cuban Sandwich. This hot, pressed sandwich has, turkey, ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard. I’m not exactly sure what’s Cuban about this sandwich, but it seems like a benign consumable, which is mission critical at this point. I also purchase a bottle of ultra expensive organic raspberry ice tea. I’ve never heard of the brand before, so it must be something new and extremely good, otherwise, why would they charge so much, right? All told my panini and ice tea costs me $34. Thirty-four-dollars! I know, it was at the airport, and it was in the newly refurbished Terminal C, so somebody has to pay for that renovation. But $34, come on.
So, I get my $34 meal in a bag and I find a table to sit at. The chair is positioned a bit further from the table than it should be, but it’s made out of concrete. It doesn’t move. I sit down and pull my panini clamshell shaped container out of the bag. What I didn’t realize was there was a decent amount of panini oil in the container, a container that I thought was hermetically sealed. It was not. The angle of me pulling the container out of the bag, caused a healthy amount of oil to pour onto the crotch area of my jeans. (The only jeans I have for this trip, a 7-day trip.)
I did my best to clean up the situation with napkins, which only made it worse. Then I opened the lid on my expensive ice tea, and tasted it. I thought the panini oil had more flavor. I came to the conclusion that maybe it needed to be shaken first. I twisted the cap back on the bottle. I thought it was tight. Again…it was not. As I shook the bottle, I got my second shower of the day. When I got on line to board the plane everyone gave me a lot of space. Seems nobody wanted to stand next to the crazy old man who wet himself.
