You Can See a Lot at the Atlanta Airport
By Steve Moreland, September 13, 2017
A friend recently posted this on Facebook. He does provide food for thought with his comments:
“Sitting at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia getting ready to board, and think I've pretty much seen it all! Older people dressed like young people, young people dressed like homeless people, and everything in between. Don't know who sets the standards, probably some of the likes of which spoke out against our First Lady's shoes last week. My word folks, what happened to the time when people dressed in style? Saw males wearing sports coats with shorts and sandals, baggy pants hanging below the hips with boxers showing. Don’t know how they walk. Women were wearing those gosh-awful leggings or jeans that look like they have been used as dog beds, and so tight they can hardly walk. Guys so sloppy with shoes untied and bellies hanging out under their shirts. Get the picture! Here I sit with starched jeans, white shirt and dress boots, and I'm getting stares. What a wonderful world. Have a great day.”
This friend’s comments brought back memories of when my wife Carol and I took our three kids to DisneyWorld back in 1993. Carol and I both tried to present ourselves as normal cowboy-type ranch people. We were and are proud of our Sandhills ranching heritage, and did our best to portray the image. We wore nice blue jeans and western cotton shirts with snaps, and in those days we both wore handmade Wilson western boots. I wore a straw cowboy hat, as did our oldest son, Will, who was ten years old at the time. Tiffany was almost seven, and she wore pink denim Rockie jeans. Her long blonde hair and big grin exuded happiness. Brock was barely four, and he was hard to keep up with. For this reason, a bright yellow coil-retractable telephone cord was attached from his belt loop to a belt loop on his mother’s jeans.
We flew from Omaha to Atlanta. When we embarked from the plane, we immediately were funneled into a swarm of moving humanity the likes of which I had never seen. This must be the same sensation a calf experiences when it is unloaded from a truck at the sale barn. There were people everywhere, and it looked to be prime pickings for pick-pockets. Extra caution was exercised in this regard.
We made our way to the gate for our next flight to Montgomery, Alabama, as the first stop on our trip was to attend the wedding of one of Carol’s cousins. With a couple hours to wait, Carol and the kids walked off a little excess energy by going up and down the airport concourse. My job was to keep track of our luggage. Even though I had along a good book, it was more fun to watch the people go by. There was excellent opportunity to observe a cross-section of a wide variety of the earth’s population. As I sat in the largest airport in the world, seeing all sorts of people pass in front of me, an amusing thought entered my mind. There were none any odder, or that stood out more in the crowd, than did my own little tribe. It was a proud moment.
Atlanta does have the largest airport in the world. A lady who traveled and flew a lot with her occupation once lamented, “When I die, whether I’m sent to Heaven or Hell, undoubtedly I’ll be routed through the Atlanta Airport.”