I walked through the Wal-Mart doors entering LAX, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. After 64 business trips in 3 years, I'd learned that the smell of an aiport tells you everything you need to know about how your day's gonna be. The smell this time was puke, cheap liquor and mothballs. A bad day, waiting in the wings. I walked up to the line with my ticket, and got to security. More mothballs, less liquor. I was sandwiched between a Latino and an Arabian, so I thought my chances of getting pulled aside were slim to none. Hey, I'm not racist, it's the security I'm making fun of. I suppose that I was pulled aside just for thinking that, and guess what? I had a thermos of soup on me. That apperently means 'Bomb' in Swahili or something, so, of course they have to search me.
Eventually, I make it on board, by some miracle avoiding a body cavity search. I take my seat, right next to a girl with some really nice hair. I put on my 'cool face' and say: