Logan to Dulles.

My thoughts on airports are polarized. I passionately hate them because they're full of slow lines, overpriced food and people who talk loudly on their mobile phones as if everyone cared about the guy who is planning a wedding but not inviting his mother because she disowned him for being gay. That said, I love airports because being in one means I'm going somewhere fun or picking up someone I haven't seen in a while. Most importantly, being in an airport means I get to people-watch. My all time favorite hobby.

I traveled through three different airports to get home: Logan, Dulles and Detroit Metro. WOW!!! Let's skip right to my first plane ride from Boston to D.C.

The captain of the plane announced himself as Captain Morgan. I knew it was going to be a great trip. I was lucky enough to have a window seat. To my left was a little girl, maybe 8. Next to her was her dad (although I was convinced he could have also been her kidnapper). Sitting next to these two gave me a minor ulcer. The second they buckled their seat-belts, the dad (let's call him Richard) pulled out a bottle of liquid hand sanitizer from his little blue backpack. On demand, his daughter (let's call her Jill) opened her hands as if receiving the Holy Communion. He squirted a good portion into her hands and his and stashed his little backpack under the seat in front of him. They cleansed themselves in unison. Normal enough.

Still on the tar-mack, Richard retrieved his little backpack from under the seat in front of him and pulled out a pack of gum. Jill reached for a silver-wrapped piece of gum.

"Don't touch the gum with your hands!" shrieked a balding Richard.

I became a little nervous watching the girl struggle to open and insert the piece of gum without making contact. Her father looked away and she grabbed the gum and shoved it in her mouth. Richard pulled out the sanitizer again and squirted some into Jill's hand. He dug a black pen out of his backpack and gave it to her. She took off the cap and wrote "Hi!" on the back of her hand.

"Don't do that!" shrieked a bespectacled Richard.

He retrieved his sanitizer and poured it on her hand until it was dripping off the sides. He took out a napkin and handed it her. She started to rub but was not rubbing to Richard's liking so he pressed his hand over her hand over the napkin and scrubbed her skin.

The distribution of hand sanitizer didn't end here, but you get the point so this is where I'll stop. Seriously this poor little girl is going to be neurotic in a few years, if she isn't already. He should let her get a little dirty and build some immunity instead of breeding paranoia. Soon she'll be wearing masks over her mouth and gloves on her hands like Asians in fear of Sars and germs.

I, on the other hand, will never contract another disease after surviving the 426 bathroom. Neither will Andrea, Christina, Jess, Noelle or Tara. Hooray!!!

Anyways... I spent the rest of the plane ride to D.C. listening to Head Automatica and coughing without covering my mouth in an attempt to induce a stress-related seizure in Richard.

I hope he's having a nightmare about my germs flying into his eyeballs somewhere right now.