That person is definitely this that way

Air travel is always an interesting experience, especially when one hasn't hit the concourse in months. Ploddng the polished concrete, purusing the blue carpeted gates, paying too much for a wilted lettuce, pimento-loaf sandwich. There are a plethora of things to say here but let me play with the two fine gents I saw this morning in Detroit.

It has been a wonderful weekend. The weather has been unseasonably warm and dry, a thing which has eluded my yearly visitation for too long. In fact, I had become a talisman for driving rain and sleet according to the Michigan Tailgate Crew. "Dean's coming for the Purdue game?! Awe hell. Better make chili and break out the polar gear." Yesterday, as the sun rose, the coats were shed. People warmed to the day and smiled sharing the universal gift of pleasant weather and good tidings.

This morning, the weather continues to yield smiles and pleasantries. The airport process of stripping down and groping in vain for that small metal object that continues to trigger the metal detector has not broken the spirit of the airport crowd. Not even the screaming child can break the mood, "Hey, aaaaawe little bugger. It's gunna be okay. moowah moowah."

So as I fondle...er, ah, pat my pockets for the friggin beer top in my pocket, I notice a man wearing a ball cap. Older gent, retired in age and traveling with a dour looking woman. He looks a little smelly, unkempt if you will, and maybe she is normally cheery but the odor of fourty years of marriage has her irked? Anyway, there he is. Normal enough guy. His ball cap proclaims that he is a McCain/Palin '08 fan. Immediately my image of him takes shape. I tack on the labels and justified morals I associate with policital fans, specifically Republican ones. He's a pro-life NRA man fer sure. Probably thinking debased thoughts about the young, pregnant woman stripping down in front of me. "Your computers out of the bag and panties in a bin please." He has an accountant do his taxes and always pays less than 20%. Yada yada yada.

It is like a flash in my head. The poor guy never had a chance. One hat with text on it and I shoved him into a cubbie hole in my psycie that works for me.

Now, normally I wouldn't have reflected on what I was doing. Not in the here and now. Maybe over coffee and a chat with my girlfriend later. But then there was this other guy. Older gent, retired in age and traveling with a dour looking woman. He looks a little smelly, unkempt if you will, and maybe she is normally cheery but the odor of fourty years of marriage has her irked? Anyway, there he is. Normal enough guy. His ball cap proclaims that he is an Obama for President fan. Immediately my image of him takes shape. I tack on the labels and justified morals I associate with political fans, specifically Democratic ones.

But here's the rub folks. My labels are in alignment, more so, with my leanings. The cubbie hole I place him in, some of me is in there too. It is roomie. Heck, it is a cubbie built for many and much.

Like with my Palin subject, I do this quickly - in a flash. And then I feel...icky. What am I doing? I don't know a thing about these two people. All the thoughts are my stories. They are things of my making. These two gents are canvas without paint, devoid of color or embellishment. And I am stroking away creating a still life, a representation of reality, without any real concept of what I am seeing. I am painting with that voice in my head and not with my eyes.

It is what I do. It is what we, people, do. But I enjoy being able to catch myself at times. To readjust my vision, to reel-in that voice and message, and ask, "Really dude? Are you really going to label, judge, and pigeon-hole other human beings on the basis of nothing?"

So for the moment, I will be open to any possibility for these two gents. I am going to be a wide-mouthed vessel capable of holding many likely realities. Yeah, I am going to be a better person. I really am.

But that TSA agent sure seems mean and man I bet she is a control freak who...oops. Daaaaaaang.