Hell of a Guy

Four Plus Hours at the Indianapolis Airport


My travels, or travails, have taken me from my beautiful country home to the big city.  Indianapolis isn’t as large as some cities, but the airport is just as big and boring as a lot of them.  I am not necessarily enjoying this adventure.

My flight today left Dulles International at 12:15.  I arrived in Indianapolis just about 2pm.  I came here for meeting that is to take place in Terre Haute, Indiana tomorrow morning at 8:30 in the morning.  I am to meet my boss, but he does not arrive until 6:30, about two hours from now.

Not long after I got off United Airlines’ flight 7803 in Indy, I proceeded as slowly as I could to the baggage pickup area.  I really had little to no idea how I would spend the four hours until Big Daddy arrives.  It didn’t take me long to explore every nook and cranny of this airport seeking a venue in which to sit my butt down and wait.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you see it, I found a very nice bar just outside one of the concourses.  I took a seat at the bar, perused the bar’s menu of delectable appetizers, which was made up of numerous types of deep-fried fare and other nasty sounding things.

You all know I am particular about the beer I will drink.  This bar just happened to serve Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and assorted mass produced industrial swills: you know-Bud Light, Miller Lite, Michelob Ultra – the usual crap some people believe to be “good” tasting beer.  God must have a special purpose for these poor, gullible, unfortunate souls.

I decided to have a Sierra and some chips and salsa.  Time to go: three hours, forty-five minutes.  I knew pacing my consumption was in perfect order, but for those who know how quickly I can put this stuff down my esophagus, pacing is nearly a Mission Impossible.  About thirty minutes into my wait I have polished off three Sierras, all the fritos y salsa I had ordered, and knew number four would not serve me well.  I paid the bill and skedaddled.  I went on a search to find a quiet place to work.  Don’t laugh: This is work.

Here I sit in a secluded corner of the baggage area of the Indianapolis Airport writing BS for my Hell-Of-A-Guy.Com website so wanting to go back up to the bar and enjoy another Sierra, but it would not be prudent, especially with His Majesty coming in to Indy in a little under two hours.  It will be bad enough I have beer breath; a buzz will not be a good thing to have as I greet the guy who keeps me employed.

The experience has caused me to make some notes to self:
1. Never drink five beers while waiting your boss.
2. It is very difficult to hide a $60.00 bar tab on your expense report.
3. Four and half hours in an airport is not a fun time.

And that is all I have to say about that…

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