There's such a random assortment of people in the airport early on a Thursday morning. About 50% of these actually work at the airport. Thirty percent are businessfolks, in their snazzy suits and ties, peering over their noses at my shorts and sneakers - yes, Mr. Metrosexual, I realize I'm in fashion-forward Dallas right now, but in about 5 hours I'll be in New Orleans, and let's face it, there's not really anyone to impress there right now. Then you've got the early-bird contingent (5%), folks who are awake at this hour by choice, and by hormone therapy. And the remaining 15% are kids like me, who stared at the Priceline screen last Friday saying, "Well, how bad can it be?"
"Okay, ma'am, we've got you down for a 4:30 wake-up call."
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