Let me tell you about the most relaxing airport in the world. Long Beach airport.
Long Beach is probably the only airport in the country where people collect their luggage to the sound of "Hold Me Down" by the Thompson Brothers playing over the speakers.
It's also a near-perfect study in West Coast/East Coast psychology. After you exit the airplane with the help of those giant stairs (which until now I thought were only used so Presidents could wave to the press), you have two choices: inside or outside. Inside consists of a small, cramped room where commuters are packed together like the chattel they are, and the only means of entertaining yourself is watching 45 people fight over who gets use of the one lone power outlet. Outside consists of sunshine, brilliantly blue skies, and palm trees swaying gently in the distance.
Naturally, the first time around I chose to stay inside, far away from the sun and surf and -- ugh -- happiness. But this time I decided to sit at a picnic table, put on some toolbag California-esque sunglasses and enjoy making myself slightly more susceptible to skin cancer. And call me crazy, but I think I finally get that whole "Float On" concept. It's real, people.
Maybe mismatched black clothing is not quite as vogue in Long Beach as it is in Seattle. Maybe the barista-surfer forgot that I existed immediately after taking my order. Maybe that security guard leaning against the post and staring at palm trees isn’t as concerned with terrorist attacks as one might have hoped. We all gotta go sometime, right?
I'll tell you more about my trip to California later, but for the time being, you narcs really just need to settle down.