Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Airports

In my profession I end up sitting around a lot of airports. I know what you're thinking; "you have a profession?". Well, yes kind reader: sobbing uncontrollably while drinking my tears in order to taste pain is a profession. Shows you what you know.

Anyhoo, I travel a lot and I think nothing tells you more about a city than the book selection at its airport Hudson News.

For example, I'm sitting in San Jose airport right now (sobbing uncontrollably, of course: a dude's gotta make a living!), and after drinking my weight in whiskey-chased tears I strutted over to the local Airport Bookseller. What books do I find? Timothy Ferriss' 4 Hour Workweek, Dave Logan, John King, and Halee Fischer-Wright's Tribal Leadership, and various other "how and why people are successful and how to use that information to make shit-tons of money" books. That selection both underscores and reenforces the notion that the Bay Area is the Progressive, Thinking Professional Fun-Guy I WANT FUCKING MONEY capital of the world. Not a bad place to be (at least if you're my brother).

As a contrast, I usually fly out of Los Angeles and I think the book selection at that airport is pretty telling; adorning the wooden shelves are such pulitzer-winning masterpieces as Mommywood by Tori Spelling, the ingeniously titled Beckham by David Beckham and Angelina Jolie's: Notes From My Travels by...Angelina Jolie, which begs the question: how many notes of Angelina Jolie's can you read without having a complete existential breakdown?  These books solidify LA as the HOLY FUCKING SHIT WE'RE FULL OF HOLY FUCKING SHIT capital of the world. A terrible place to be (but only if you're me).
 
Next time you fly somewhere, check out what books are prominently displayed at the airport bookseller. It'll tell you more about local culture than any guidebook. That, or I'm full of it.


Now as a treat, listen to my favorite Beach Boy track off the oddly weird 1977 craptacular masterpiece Love You: DING DANG. 





It has nothing to do with my post, but then again, neither does my post. If you understand that you're a better man than I, sir.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The small words hurt my eyes. I hate those small words that make us so unhappy.