Brisbane Airport: Human Battlefield

The three undisputed facts of life:
1. You will grow old, become decrepit and eventually die.
2. Not everyone enjoys your music collection.
3. An ‘airport slumber’ is pretty much inevitable at least once.

Homeless people don’t usually lurk within the Brisbane Airport. Now I may be wrong - especially due to the startling rise of the “white-collar looking, only the suit and tie on my back” breed of homeless plebs. But this kook looked kind-of clean-shaven and didn’t smell like a bloated dead sea-bass as my foot played hopscotch with his face; missing it by mere centimeters.

So for writing purposes (and from my own trained observatory deduction) I am going to assume that he is, in actuality, waiting for a flight. Yes, the fact he somewhat resembles a horizontal break-beat dancer points toward a discount Garuda flight to Bali, but nonetheless, I’m sure he has a home. Like in Inala or something.

So if he isn’t homeless then surely he’s mentally retarded. Honestly, who the hell catches some z’s smack-bang in the middle of an airport thoroughfare? Like, does he want to be a human speed-bump for crazy airport lunatics? Those people like me who channel their inner-cheetah dashing skills to catch a plane they’re not even late for.


Word to the wise brother:
Airports are a nesting ground for incompetent official fuckwits, suspicious security-guard fuckwits and general fuckwits who suffer from just being ‘general fuckwits’ due to mixing with these fuckwits at the airport. Rarely does time spent in this circus of a place run smoothly AND we don’t need YOU to be another bump in the road. Pardon the pun.

That is all.
ska