Bluetooth equipped businessmen dragging their streamlined Mobile Sales Platforms behind them. Public announcements every ninety seconds thanking me for being the airline's "Partner In Security." My fellow Southern rednecks waddling between crowded waiting aisles, praying for an extra-wide seat to magically become available. And at the High Tech Anti-Terrorist Checkpoint, an unarmed micro-army of minimum wage, tattooed Post-Tweeners assure me that the "non-invasive" porn scanners will not record the images, nor share them on Facebook, and my naughty bits are blurred so that they cannot determine scientific width or girth of my naughty bits. But that doesn't make me feel any safer from the invisible religious ninjas they've been protecting me from so effectively for the past decade. Fortunately, my obedience and an extra $25 per bag rewards me with access to a Starbucks, semi-clean bathrooms, and optional $3.95 worth of wireless connections.
So, here I sit. Typing and waiting to launch skyward. This is our new America. The future is already here.
So, here I sit. Typing and waiting to launch skyward. This is our new America. The future is already here.
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