Adventures from the Orlando International Airport
Visiting Orlando, FL always comes with risks: sunburn, Disney overload, exhaustion, divorce. Whether you’re there for pleasure or business, Orlando is a special kind of Florida. Here is a brief recounting of a few very Orlando, Florida moments I experienced recently—all within the span of around ninety minutes.
The Uber driver taking me to the airport watching a telenovela on her phone while driving 78 mph on the highway.
The Uber driver’s car overheats, and we pull over to the shoulder of an on-ramp with cars zipping past us at acceleratingly high speeds.
A man in his fifties in front of me at TSA Pre-check security causes a stir because he packed a bottle of bourbon in his carry on. A bottle of bourbon. And he was surprised by the hubbub it caused.
I was having a beer and a bite at the airport’s Ruby Tuesday—the stickiest Ruby Tuesday in America—and I hear what sounds like water rushing just off my left shoulder. I turn and see a teenage boy eating lunch with his dad puking his guts out all over the floor. The dad is comforting his son as the bile pours out like a coked-up Niagara Falls. Everyone else in the restaurant looks on in disgust. I alert the bartender. “Someone is sick.” She, repulsed, alerts her co-workers who also react with offense. The boy is shaking. He finally finishes, and leaves for what I assume is the restroom. Dad goes back to his meal. Another worker comes over and dumps coffee grounds on the vomit to soak up the wetness. A few minutes later, she’s back in full Covid PPE to sweep and mop it up. Dad pays the bill and asks for a to-go box for the son’s meal.
If what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas (it doesn’t) then what happens in Orlando haunts you for months.
