Ok, so maybe my last post was a little harsh. I mean, I shouldn’t disparage the elderly as a whole becuase of a couple of particularly nasty travelers. In fact, I tend to like old ladies a lot better than most people, including other old ladies.

And in truth, the trip wasn’t that bad. Yeah, there were some delays and the regular annoyed and thus annoying travelers in their wrinkled suits and rumpled demeanors. I actually enjoy the airport. Delays and such are always a drag, but the people watching is really good. Second only to those days in High School when my buddy Adam and I would hang out on the Grand Central balcony over the Pan Am Building escalator and watch the girls come in from Connecticut and Scarsdale wearing black and putting on their “cool” face. Good times.

And speaking of good times, can you just imagine the time when you could actually carry a bottle of booze with you, when you could get liquored up and enjoy your travels in a half blind stupor? I’m not talking about the little 50 ml mini bottles I stash in my quart sized plastic zipper bag stuffed with under 3 ounce containers of toothpaste and shampoo. I’m talking about real bottles, when people called their bottle a quart and metric measure had no place in the American booze market. I mean, in those days they could practically roll stainless steel drums of vodka past the security folks and hang out at their departure gate with a paperback and an extra large crazy straw.

Ahhhh, the golden age.