Airport travel thoughts. Also, I’m here!

(Image: Whiskey begging for attention while I write a grocery list)

After flying out of Albuquerque Tuesday morning, I have a two hour layover in Houston Airport. Most of my travel in airports is for Furry conventions. When I’m traveling for those I usually end up playing “spot the furries”. There isn’t a single look to furries, but there are certain giveaways. Some are obvious. Adults carrying a stuffed animal, t-shirts from recognizable furry artists. An ominous lumpy pillowcase that’s definitely concealing a fursuit head. There are other traits I look for that start to feel very judgemental. But I’m still usually right. Nerdy men without female partners age 20-35, bright colored dyed hair (on any gender), a haircut that looks like its kept for efficiency of wear under a big costume head. Unacceptable normal-public fashion choices (Top hat, PJs). When I arrived at ABQ Sunport this morning I found myself looking for flags before I remembered I wasn’t traveling for a furry event. I wondered what it would look like to do the same for Disney travelers.

The question has answered itself in the Houston airport. There is a scattered group of about 30 women and girls, all wearing the same shirt. Teal with yellow disney-script that reads “Disney Bound”. I asked a group of adult women what the shirt was for. “We’re going to Disney”. Duh. I asked about the group and she said “They’re dancing. It’s a girlscout troupe.” “Oh, cool.” I am sure I looked like a creep at this point, or at least, I am sure that these ladies were looking at me like I was one. “I’m an artist and I’m doing a project about Disney, that’s why I’m curious.” No reaction. “It’s my first time going to Disney. I’m excited.” “Oh you’ll love it! Have fun.” I walked away. I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing interesting about a mid 20’s fruity looking guy asking a group of women about their obviously-going-to-disney plans.

I walk elsewhere in the boarding gate and can’t help but overhear another conversation about the park. A boomer white southern couple is telling a young Indian couple and their daughter about all the parades they need to see when they visit the magic kingdom. The little girl is thrashing against an airport chair in excitement, her bag has a marker drawing of Minnie shoved into a display pocket on the front. Several people are wearing Mickey/Minnie hats. I accidentally stole one of the girlscouts seats when I sat down to write this. Now I’m surrounded by girlscouts and feel weird writing about them, I hope they don’t look over.

Robin, one of my hosts for my trip picked me up from the airport. We talked about our plans to visit the park, and about her work at universal studios, which is a minor support beside her main income as a working Furry artist selling illustrations, merchandise and costumes. On our way home, Robin points out the routine nightly Disney Fireworks. I can just barely see them through the rainy window.

We pick up Mallory—Robin’s partner, and my other close friend—after her work, and head back to the house for the night. I meet their three cats, and learn their associated sub-descriptions. Whiskey (the teddy bear), Juno (dumb as rocks), and Tigerbean (the asshole). The progeny of their nicknames is make apparent quickly. Individual bios on the cats (and Robin and Mallory duh) to come later. Right now I have to help friends make dinner, and I can’t sit and write anymore. TTYL!!!