Sunday, May 2, 2010

Lunch At The Airport

It's really not that strange that Martin chose to take Mia and I to lunch yesterday at the airport. He works for a company that is located on the campus. I make four round-trips to the airport every day now that I am working. (And yes, that is getting really old really fast, the driving part; I like the working part.)

The Indy Airport is really quite impressive. It's all shiny and new and features that cool moderne vibe that I love. The airport boasts some really interesting art (the breathing sculptures, which are red and look something like bellows) and some very la di da shops and restaurants. Did I mention it's all shiny and brand new?

We ate at the Indy 500 restaurant there. Unfortunately, they don't seem to have a website. The food is awesome, the Cosmos are to die for, although they should bloody well be, at ten bucks a pop in an over sized thimble of a glass. Mia had chicken tenders (I realize that this is a huge shock to everyone who knows Mia), Martin had a pork stacker sandwich and I had a wonderful tomato and bleu cheese salad with mustard vinaigrette dressing and homemade crostini.

The best part of lunch at the airport, of course, is the people-watching. At the same restaurant as we were, there was a girl who can best be descried as (to paraphrase a great Glee line) looking like she was taking her fashion tips from Lindsey Lohan, who looks like she belongs in The Hobbit. Said girl had on a tee-shirt dress, lavender tied died. I use the word "dress" optimistically; it was really a long tee shirt and all the world was her gynecologist. For footwear, she chose square-toed motorcycle boots. This spectacular display of Fug was topped with stringy, unwashed over dyed black hair and a John Deere trucker cap. I shit you not.

I really wanted to get a picture, but there was no way of doing so without being very obvious and she was kind of scary looking (or just really dangerously hungover) and I didn't think it would be good idea. I wasn't in the mood to be spat upon.

I finally bought a new bag this week-end. I originally wanted a shiny purple one, but I decided to be practical and buy a black one. It's HUGE and I love it. Where the rule used to be, "She who has the biggest earrings wins", the new mantra is "She who has the biggest, coolest bag, wins." I may not be the winner, but at least I'm in the running.

1 comment:

Ronni said...

SSS and I used to go to O'Hare and play "Drug Dealer at the Airport." At any major airport at any given time, there is at least one drug dealer. Your mission? find him. A variation on George Carlin's "Spy at the Airport."

Of course, back in those days, they didn't have nice restaurants.