The Mad Bishounen

Hello airport wifi, how are you.

So, I'm flying from point A to point B, point A being on the east coast and point B being on the west coast.  I'm flying southwest, which continues to be the least evil bastard in the evil bastard convention that is air travel, which means I have to change planes at one of their central hubs.  I could have changed at Chicago, if I was lucky.  Maybe Denver.

I'm changing planes in Vegas.

Now, this isn't necessarily a problem.  The flight was cheap, it leaves not too early and gets in not too late, it's really all I could ask for logistically, but you will never find a greater collection of human waste than a flight going into Vegas.  You know what really scares the shit out of me?  The old people.  The fifty, sixty, hell, some maybe seventy-year-olds, dolled up like they were on their honeymoon.  "Aging gracefully" isn't even a concept to them, they dress and act like they're twenty years younger, and it is painful to watch. 

Vegas itself isn't much better.  I hate the airport.  Not because it's poorly designed or anything, it's an airport.  I can get from one gate to another pretty easily, though if you have to change terminals it gets a little dicey.  No, what bothers me about vegas is everything that isn't directly related to air travel.  First of all, the slot machines.  They  are common.  No, they are ubiquitous.  They show up right outside your gate and will track you all the way to your next gate or the exit, whichever you reach first.  In the goddamn airport.  They don't waste any time leeching the gullible, do they.  Hell, some of the machines could be programmed to NEVER pay out and people would still play them.  It's so fucking depressing.  Then there's  the flat out weird shit, like the flavored oxygen bar.  You read that correctly, people.  Last time I was in Vegas airport there was a flavored oxygen bar outside my gate.  My reaction went right past "WTF" and into "I can't even deal with that."  What the fuck, Vegas.  Flavored oxygen.  It's fucking AIR.

Plane's boarding, should contain my rage and disgust long enough to get on I suppose.  My layover in Vegas is only an hour.  If I ignore the really stupid shit, I might make it out without going into fits of disgusted rage.  Wish me luck -_-