Sat, October 4, 2008
God damn, I love George Bush—1:56 PM
George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, that is. After suffering through the din of noise pollution at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta and Logan Airport in Boston during my September trips, it was a welcome oasis of calm.
I don't know where the research is that says we need Muzak behind every goddamn experience we have as a culture, but apparently the folks in Atlanta and Boston have bought into it but good. On top of that, there's the endless chatter of CNN Airport Edition ("WHAT DO MIDDLE-CLASS SINGLE MOM ENTREPRENEUR MIDDLE CHILDREN THINK OF SARAH PALIN! ALSO, DOGS THAT LOOK LIKE THEIR OWNERS!"), a brain-numbing loop of recorded security advisories delivered in a monotone (in case we somehow missed the security situation), and that fucking nonstop electric cart beeping. Then over all that clamor, occasionally someone will get on a rusty old CB radio and squawk some sort of pivotal gate change announcement that none of us can hear because we've stuffed our fingers into our ears up to our wrists to drown out all the other nonsense.
Not so at IAH, folks! The carts are whisper-quiet and the attendants actually know how to drive them so they don't need to be constantly shooing people out of the way (though they'll politely say "Excuse me" if they must). There's no music and no recorded announcements, and no TV. It's like a friggin' spa weekend in there. I was dreading my three-hour layover there on the way home, but now I'm looking forward to it more than anything! Well done, crazy Texans. Well done.
