About NYC and Urinals

Thursday morning, after only 2-3 hrs of sleep, I was standing in-line at DFW smooth talking the Delta agents to let me cross the gigantic, extremely slow check-in line so I can make my flight. Less than an hour later, I was in the plane, on my way to NY, and passed out. Sleeping to the sounds of the jet engines has been my most recent form of nostalgia about school. Engines remind of school; school reminds me of sleeping in class; thus, I am asleep on a plane.

"Are you awake?" the flight attendant said while I was dragging my feet off of the plane. "I .. am working on it," I replied. With no plans, or conscious of what to do, I literally circled the terminal area about six times before deciding on my next move: a visit to the restrooms.

I realized that I really needed to visit the restroom. Really. Urinals were fully occupied, besides I hate using them anyways, so I headed to one of the stalls. Oh my oh my .. I may have thought it was easy feat. A janitor, whom I called the Toilets Guardian, was blocking the way to the stalls.

Our conversation sounded this way:
Janitor: heh?
Me: Nah, eeee.
Janitor: NO NO ..
Me: EH ..

What really happened is this: the Janitor semi-squatted and spanked his own butt, pointing to the stalls with the other hand in a questioning face. Quite the pose it was. I assumed he was asking if I needed the stall for Number 2. So in-reply I leaned backward arching my back and pointed with both hands down below the belt (a.k.a my crotch) twisting my body right and left. He yelled angry at me and pointed at the urinals. I waved him off, and walked to the stall. He literally stood by my stall the whole time I was standing there (and it was a while), creepy, huh! While I was leaving he gave me the evil looks, waved angrily, and cussed at me.

Because of my 10 hours layover, which ironically was about the exact same time I spent in a plane flying to Amman, I went to the city. Again, I had no plans. Wandered and wandered for hours, NY is just fascinating. A friend, future ad hot-shot, works in NY. By the time he was free, combined that he never ever made it on time (that's how I knew he's a hot shot), I thought I had no time to meet up with him. Sorry dude. On my way to the airport I was.

In the airport, yet again another gigantic extremely long check-in line. Though, I need not worry for my luggage is checked in all the way to Amman, and I just need to check in at the self-check-in kiosik. "Pleas, see an agent," that stupid screen told me. Tired and sleepy, words just stumpled outta my mouth when I saw the agent. Before I even repeated to clarify myself, he was yelling at me: "Just answer my question, are you checked in or not? Do you have a boarding pass or not? Just answer my question." Him yelling at me got the words flowing and said firmly, not yelling-lly, "You could calm down, and ask me politely. I could hear your voice, and I do understand your English." Regardless, I walked away and talked to another agent, whom seemed illeterate of how to use those kiosiks, and I had to teach her!! After a couple of more agents I had my boarding pass.

WTH? I don't understand. This time, even when boarding the plane, they had us going through another security check. Take off the shoes, the laptop out of the backpack, etc. An old grandpa was about to walk through that security screening machine. Though, he had forgotten his sweatshirt and his belt on. The security man behind the machine informed him in their, security peaple, firm direct way: "Sir, you need to take off your sweatshirt ... Sir, you, also, need to take off your belt." The grandpa was extremely irritated. His response was: yelling at the security guy and cussing him in Arabic. Security guy standing still. On the other hand, I was cracking up as well as all the other security officers in the room. Only in NY security officers can laugh off such a thing. In Texas, I had the feeling, that such thing would end up with the grandpa cuffed and to the ground.

There is just something about NY.