Time for another guest blogger. This series is open to anyone who is interested, so let me know if you think you have something to say. Justin and I went to college together and I’m happy he agreed to write a post for my blog. When he’s not gallivanting around the internet, you can find him at What Townie Learned.

Let’s get something on the table right now: nobody enjoys the airport. I know surefire I don’t, and I know you don’t either.

You know how I know this? Because you’re human and have emotional repercussions to things that suck, airports being one of the many you constantly endure, get over and eventually move on.

But this isn’t about the many, many nocuous challenges airports pose to one’s medulla oblongata, this is about how one averts those situations with positivity. Above the clouds, there’s always sunshine, right?

By doing so, this will only produce the question of why, after all the love and affection, Townie could possibly still think airports blow.

“How could he? He says right here, point by point, why they’re tremendously awesome.”

Well, by use of simple mathematics, you must conclude that if my affection equals a 90, then my dissatisfaction must be greater than 90. Probably around a 102.

(By the way: picture me writing this ten feet from my gate, surrounded by people with laptops.)

Anyway, a list:

1) I love airports because without airports the movie Airplane never becomes comic gold, cinematic glory. If you haven’t seen Airplane, don’t worry. Run over to Blockbuster, grab the tape and pop it in your VCR, because it’s old.

2) Airports have the same environment as a bathroom stall, without the heat-seaking stanky waft pervading your well-being. Nobody wants to talk to you unless it’s your best friend. You have to stay with your children. You can’t leave your baggage behind. By baggage I mean a laptop case or a steaming pile. Need more examples?

3) For cell-phone lacking degenerates like me, airports are one of the few places you can use a quarter to make a call home. Sure, it may take twenty quarters, but isn’t it worth it just for nostalgic purposes? For me, it has to be.

4) Dunkin versus Starbucks. Do I need to say more? Okay, fine. This is the only place where you literally get to see two mega-giants from the coffee world duke it out, injecting hot over-caffeinated goodness into your suckhole. East versus West. Tupac vs. Biggie. What to do? I chose to get my Pike Place roast from Starbucks with the other sophisticates, walk into line with the degenerates over at DunkieDoos and get an caloric megaboost in the form of a sausage-egg and chesse. You can actually taste the microwave in the eggs. MMM…

5)  Every airport has one convenience store that has one specific to the flavors of its local state. At that point you walk in to be proud, only to leave and say to yourself, “Wait, we have that?” You leave with $20 worth of stuff you can get if you weren’t too busy in your busy life to drive fifteen minutes. Someday, years ahead of time, you’ll see that can of New England clam chowder on sale in your local Stop and Shop for one tenth of what you paid at the airport’s novelty shop.

6) Acceptable racial profiling. I don’t know why this is a positive, or whether if it’s okay to say, or if it’ll deter readers, or family members, but hear me out. We ALL racially profile. I know when I was getting felt up by TFA officers a moment ago (smiling proudly might I add), people were saying to themselves, “What’s that white boy being checked for? Action figures? The keys to a BMW?” That’s racial profiling. I haven’t played with action figures for at least three years and I’ve never driven a BMW bigger than a matchbox car. Sure, racial profiling is unacceptable, but everyday racial profiling gets brushed aside. In Airports, racial profiling is not only used, but is readily out in the open. For some reason, you have to tip your cap to them on that.

7) So many people read. It’s amazing. You take away a television and throw a person in a situation where the only entertainment is reading and suddenly reading is cool again. Maybe the answer to illiteracy is right in front of us: airport terminals. Get me on the phone with the department of education!

Now, with all that good stuff out of the way, I can still defiantly state, airports suck.

Here’s the part of my blog where I ask a rhetorical question you never thought you’d ever be asked:

Do you really want to be that old lady in an airport with a tattoo on your ankle? You know, that rosary tattoo is not going to be rebellious and fab in the 2040’s. It’s going to look bad. Are you prepared for that? Are you accepting the way you look thirty years from now, saggy skin flapping below your cargo-capris, hanging over your pink Mickey Mouse socks? You know you’re not fooling your grandchildren, right? They know you were a skank back in high school.

Then, there’s this part, where I give a bunch of needless thoughts into your head directly from my head, only in an abbreviated way:

1) When in doubt of how to write something, go with lists.

2) That rumbling in my stomach definitely isn’t a serious case of violent diarrhea. It’s definitely something else. Definitely.

3) Diarrhea on a plane is definitely a good way to make friends with the back row.

4) I’m oft criticized for being too sarcastic. Why? Because when your baby goes godzilla near me, I reply with one of the following? “So cute”, “One of god’s children”, or “I hope to one day have children as beautiful as yours.” Sue me for seeing the positive side in every situation. I guess The Secret isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

5) Listen, I’m going to use “is” and “would” and “it’s” and all sorts of grammatical no-no’s in my blog. So long as people continue to throw misspellings in their company and product names. You know what I’m talking about Eazy Cleaners.

6) My worst habit isn’t smoking or drinking, it is, however, referring to children as “it” instead of him or her or he and she.

7) My mom likes my blog, but told me it reminds her of 60 Minutes correspondent Andy Rooney. I couldn’t be more happy and sad at the same time.