Nightmare on Social Media Street - Part I

So I’m standing in line at the Ben & Jerry’s in the C Terminal at the Atlanta Airport --you know the C Terminal ---the one that Delta and Air Tran share. So anyway, I’m standing there, trying to decide how much lactose my system can take this time of night when the woman in a St. John’s knit suit ahead of me in line turned completely around, facing me.

“Want ice cream now. OK because 52 minutes on the treadmill today.

I heart Ben & Jerry’s. Always have.”

Before I could respond to this unsolicited justification, a 20-something guy in front of her with an Abercrombie & Fitch Polo and faded jeans turned completely around facing both of us and said,

“Gladwell’s Outliers rocks. He skated with Blink. Glad he’s back to Tipping Point form.”

As soon as he was done with that non sequitur, the girl with the lip ring behind the counter displayed large snapshots for us with both hands,

“Relatives in Milpitas, CA. My 3 year old neice is so cute.”

To which the Abercrombie and Fitch guy responded,

“So over LOST. Liked it at the beginning. Time travel stuff is lame.

Freckles is pretty hot, though. Juliette’s a sourpuss.”

Then the St John’s Knit lady said,

“No! I still heart LOST.

Spirituality, self doubt displayed by all transcends demographics.

Don’t mind it at all when Sawyer goes shirtless.”

The Ben & Jerry’s girl had whipped out two new pictures from nowhere,

“My cousin - systems analyst works here in Modesto.

His Mom was extra in American Graffiti..

Not a blood relative, but treats me like a niece anyway.

They were all taking turns, speaking in order, each waiting until the other one finished to follow with these random statements, which they delivered with the utmost confidence.
“Uhm, I’m sorry do I know you guys?” I asked.

“I follow you.” “We’re friends.” “You follow me.”

They said one after another, in perfect cadence.

“Uhm, I’m getting a little creeped out here.” I said.

Then the St. John’s knit lady said,

“I’m laughing out loud.”

The girl behind the counter was no longer holding the snapshots in her hands, but she chimed in,

“I’m laughing out loud.”

Ironically neither of them was laughing out loud. If fact, they delivered their responses with perfectly straight faces. The polo shirt guy said,

“I’m laughing out loud too. Miss Chris Farley. Tommy Boy is a classic.”

I decided ice cream wasn’t worth this time in the loony bin. So I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face and try to figure out why people were talking in this bizarre fashion.

(Tomorrow Part II: TERROR IN THE TERMINAL HEIGHTENS)