JFK Airport is a horror show with a silver lining. Flying out of the airport for an 11:00 pm flight, we parked hundreds of yards away from the entrance to the monorail. Then we were dumped off at a terminal and had to walk dragging luggage and dodge cars coming–fast–around a building, into a narrow terminal that was mostly closed.
A young women complained to the TSA baggage inspector about the conditions. “You can write a letter to the managers at Delta,” the tall, black uniformed inspector said. “I don’t handle that, I just inspect the bags.” After the annoyed woman was out of earshot, the man turned and said ‘you can bet THAT bag will be searched,” and laughed with his coworker.
We spotted a bar with a Sam Adams sign. We Walked in and no one was about…. but soon a man came in after us, saying the bar was closed.
“We’re waiting for an 11 pm flight,” we said, since it was just 9:15 or so on a Thursday night. “Oh, you would like drinks? What would you like?” We followed him back to the bar and he had the bartender make us doubles in Burger King cups, to go.
We tipped him handsomely for the $15.99 each drinks, and headed back out to the terminal to have our Sbarro chicken parm served in paper plates.
Related posts:
