Nightmare on Social Media Street - Part II

My head was starting to clear as I wiped the cold water from my face with a paper towel out of the rotary dispenser. I held my hands under the sensor on the soap dispenser when the guy next to me, who was running his hands under the water said,

“Saw palmetto tablets and pomegranate juice relieves that occasional burning sensation.”

“Why are you sharing that with me?” I asked.

Before the diuretic expert could answer, a 30-something wearing a tweed jacket, Cole Hahn Penny Loafers and tortoise shell glasses wiping his hands in front of the trash can said,

“Seeds of radical Islamic fundamentalism sown in years after WW II. We worried too much about Greece and Italy. Not enough about the Arab fiefdoms. I’m not alone on this one. Check out PhillipOurBlunder.com

This was worse than the ice cream line. First a guy takes me into his confidence about something I’d rather discuss only with my urologist and then Mr Young guy professor is pontificating about post World War Two History and pointng me to a website. What the hell is going on?

A stocky fellow with a turned around Braves hat still standing at the urinal followed that with,

“Can’t blame Manny, A-Rod or even Clemens. They’re pitiful, yet wealthy serfs in a corrupt kingdom called Major League Ball.”

I’d had enough of the restroom. I hurried out of there and headed to the gate. Along the way, everyone I passed on the concourse shouted to me whatever was on their mind.

Woman driving the beeping airport cart:

“Don t care how much respect he gets from the media.

Eminem is still a misogynist. I’m boycotting his new album”

Man in a Jos Banks suit buying a USA TODAY:

“Gotta heart Dick Cheney. He just doesn’t back away from a fight.

We need to listen to him. Rush can’t do it all alone."

Man behind him in line, in a white starched shirt and a repp tie,

“Obama better release those torture photos. We are entitled to see them.”

Teenage girl with those white IPOD headphones on:

“At the airport with Jessica.”

The friend ..it must be Jessica… she is travelling with,

“Still mad. America screwed up. What the f***! Adam rules. I’d drink his bathwater.

I heart him so. Kris sucks.”

A college kid with a DIGG t-shirt, jeans and flop flops yelled,

“Animal Collective scored with Merriweather Post Pavilion.”

This was getting worse, not better. I started running to my gate. When I got there, I sat down, put my hands on my head and tried to focus solely on my Eddie Bauer deck shoes. I prayed the plane would be on time and I could get out of the mass hysteria of Atlanta’s Terminal C and away from all these nut jobs.

Tomorrow on Part III: I fight back against the insanity.