On to Madras – 1

True. I wrote all this fighting turbulence on 747s or slouched in ass-numbing airport seats, so if I sound incoherent and generally boring, please do not attribute it to above reasons.


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Phase One:

Miami Airport, I’m sure, was designed by some guy who had spent the better part of his life staring out the window of his 24th floor apartment overlooking South Beach. He then of course inserted a “Von” or “Van”or “De” in between his first & last names, instantly achieving semi-architect status and then with a hastily acquired Architect degree proceeded to apply for the position of “Chief Designer” for the Miami Airport project. What else could explain the mirrored ceilings inside the airport that gave one ( and by that I mean every male in the airport) an eagle eye’s view of the sea of cleavage the ceilings provided. What looked like a harmless convention of pre-flight boarders suddenly turned into the waiting room at a Hooter’s audition with a 90 degree tilt of the head. As soon as I realized what I was looking at (after a good 3 minutes I think), my natural instinct was to cover the eyes of the little kid sitting beside me. Too late though. My weird head pose had triggered a chain reaction and I found myself looking at a series of upturned male heads. On the downside though, what this also exposed were the bald pates of men with otherwise smart looking hairstyles from a straight line of sight. Tch Tch. That bastard arhitect, eh? I think I know what he called his design – “The Bald & the Bountiful”.

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