I Stand All Corrected

In my previous post I almost casually dropped a line that I didn’t like the local Coke brew in this part of the world. Well, after some continued taste testing—my parents didn’t raise me to quit at the first sign of adversity—I believe that the problem with my introduction to Coke in these parts was that the employees at the McDonald’s in Dubai International Airport actually gave me Coke Zero.  In my book that stuff just ain’t right.  But my point is that it was a simple mistake (cue Men at Work).

That said, I do drink too much Coke, I know that. So maybe the well-meaning McDonald’s employees were giving me a subtle hint to cut back.  Yeah, we’ll go with that interpretation.  It wasn’t a mistake (cancel the Aussie background music) it was out of genuine concern for my well-being (cue some righteous Orchestral Manouevers in the Dark).  Thanks, DBX McDonald’s!

Judgy McJudgealot

I am super judgmental. My kids know this and especially admonish me for comments I make about other drivers. In my defense, I tend to drive as if every other driver on the road is either distracted or an idiot or possibly both.  This approach has worked well for me as evidenced by the fact that I have only hit one other vehicle in my life: the 80-something-year-old lady made that turn way too fast for me to stop on wet pavement at night.  The two motorcycles that hit our van in Thailand were in fact idiots. I rest that particular case.

Back to the point of me being super judgmental.  Nothing seems to bring out the super judgy in me quite like the airport. And flying international seems to make it even worse. Don’t believe me? Read here and here. One trip, two international airports. Hyper-judgmentality in overdrive.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ranting about people who are dressed in what by most standards would be considered normal, appropriate everyday attire. This is my first time transiting through Dubai, and the men in their robes and head coverings and the women with their robes are all pretty cool to see.  This is after all, their part of the world, and it’s entirely appropriate.

Nor am I ranting about the folks who mosey through the airport looking like they got up late for class dressed in sweats, sandals or flip-flops and backwards baseball caps.  I especially like the flip-flops with socks look. Okay, I get it, people like to be comfortable when they fly, and they like to do things that make it easier to transit through the security screening process.*

So yeah, be comfortable when you fly, but I am ranting about the dude I saw at the airport in Boston. My friend, please, there are children at the airport. Your brotastic man bun, two-week patchy beard, short-sleeve henley unbuttoned to display your chest fur, adidas soccer warmup pants, down to your brightly-colored patterned socks and your shiny leather loafers with the gold hardwear...I just...I can’t...my head is exploding!  It’s like you couldn’t quite decide which hipster/millennial stereotype you wanted to represent, so you put them all together in a glorious train wreck of a fashion mashup. All you were missing was a locally-sourced mocha latte and a slouch beanie (which, to be fair, you might have had stashed in your backpack).  Just pick ONE theme and go with it!  Think of the children.  Do it for them.

See, I told you.

Super.

Duper.

Judgmental.

On the positive side of things, the local Coca-Cola brew tastes different to me, which is probably a good thing. I drink too much Coke.

*Quick shout out to my brother, the one who is a TSA agent.  If you’ve ever had one of those guys give you a hard time at the airport, I promise it wasn’t him.  Okay, it might have been him, but it could have been because of how you were dressed. He’s super judgy.  I mean, we are brothers...