Airport Apparel – Part Three

In this investigative series on the fashions foibles found in our flight facilities, we have ignored “Those Whom I Didn’t Even Notice” and over-analyzed the “Over Dressed.” Now let’s take a queasy look at those who don’t know the difference between airport apparel and clothing to which Goodwill would say good riddance. I am talking about the “Under Dressed.”

We’ve all been there. I can’t tell you how many times I have been invited to a fancy dinner party and have shown up wearing cut-offs, tank top and a do-rag. I can’t tell you that because I never get invited fancy dinner parties. It may have something to do with the do-rag but I’m not sure. There is a big difference between what you wear to mow the lawn and what you wear as you travel on a plane…for most of us. Then there are those referred to by Jeff Foxworthy as having a “glorious absence of sophistication.” Yes, I refer to the rednecks among us. I have some members of my family who could qualify for Rednecks Anonymous based on that definition. You have to admire someone who can dress like Larry the Cable Guy and not feel self-conscious.
Since I had the opportunity to revel in my ADD nature and watch those who were meandering, merging and marching past the airport lounge, it was inevitable that a few less than savory individuals would be wayward wanders. I think I saw Larry the Cable Guy’s sister. She had a shirt with the sleeves cut off. I’m not talking about a sleeveless shirt. This was a shirt that had the sleeves severed with a dull, rusty machete. It was not the most attractive look for this particular (and I use this word loosely) lady. There is something to be said for Daisy Duke cutoffs. Yes, she was wearing a pair of these very short shorts. Catherine Bach or Jessica Simpson can make those work. Many of the women passing by that day could make them work. Wearing Daisy Dukes was probably not the most fashion conscious move that woman could have made since she had never used a razor on her legs. Indiana Jones with a machete may have been able to trim the gore on these gams, but I don’t think he would be brave enough to try! (I know you don’t believe me on this one and I wish I’d had a camera on my phone to prove it.)
Since this was a Southern airport, I expected to find even more people dressed like that Daisy Duke wannabe. Surprisingly, it was difficult to find anyone like the previous woman. I knew that no one would be able to under-dress her. (I wish hadn’t tried to create the particular mental image. Nightmares again tonight!) Just as I was giving up, I saw something that made me do a double take, triple take, and even a quadruple take. Then I just stared with a look on my face that said, “This can’t be real.” I’m not sure what happened to this poor, pathetic, shell of a man. My best guess is that an airplane toilet suffered an extreme malfunction. He was blue. I’m not referring to his mental state (although it would be an accurate assessment). His clothing was splattered with some kind of blue dye like the kind you see when you flush one of the toilets on a plane. Any other day, this man would have easily fit into the nondescript first group of people. Today, he was the star of the “Under Dressed” stage. Let’s call him Mark.
I have an image of Mark’s maltreatment in the presence of a perturbed potty. After one too many of the complementary drinks offered on every flight except the ones I choose to fly, Mark feels the bulging of his bladder that cannot wait for a happy landing. He then excuses himself as he climbs from his window seat over the two others in his row. Not expecting any problems, Mark takes a less than leisurely stroll to the front of the plane where the lightly lit vacancy sign offers a glorious glow. Imagine the relief on his face as his business is completed. The subtle smile begins to grow as he (imagine the theme from Jaws – da dump, da dump) reaches for the handle. Nothing happens. (Now imagine an ominous silence.) He does what anyone would have done in the same situation. When the toilet doesn’t work, jiggle the handle.
Amazingly, for the remainder of the sold-out flight he gets a row all to himself. There are people sitting on laps all over the plane in an attempt to avoid contact with this blue skinned leper. The jiggling of a handle in a pressurized cabin with high velocity blue cleansing liquid can have some fascinating effects. As the liquid squirts out, it needs a place to go. If the bottom section of the toilet is somehow jammed shut (I don’t even like to consider how that could happen), there is only one way for the liquid to go – UP! Mark is now marked for as long as that blue dye lasts.

And I thought airports were boring. Next time we’ll take a look, so to speak, at the “Nearly Dressed”.

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