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Monday, April 30, 2012

Nothing says modern travel like a gut-bomb airport burger

Mon April 30th, 2012 - Toronto.

Well, lucky for me, Counter Attendant Sledge is having a good day, or maybe she's already gotten her yayas out hassling the poor dumbass hairdressing school students.

She lets it slide even though my luggage is 3.2 pounds over the limit. I thank her and go on my way through security at Flusherville Regional Aerodrome, which consists of a mall rent-a-cop giving us the once over as we pass through a cardboard 'gate'.

I hear they may buy one of those wand metal detectors sometime in 2014.

I hold my breath as the AeroCrashSpatiale Beechditch 6900 Whimperfan engined Turbodump (model 'D') bumped across the fresh green grass of the Regional Aerodrome, it's Whimperfan 55 cranking out every single one of its 55 horses and launching us skyward with all the elan of a spoonful of Jello pudding being catapulted through the air after you hit the spoon with your fist.

A fairly uneventful hop - although I do need to clean my goggles a few times, since YYZ was all but socked in with drizzle - and we are in Toronto.

I lay eyes on my first ever Airbus A380, showing the Emirates livery. Man that thing is HUGE. (This is something I hear quite often, but usually not from my own lips.) I think the Beechditch 6900 could take off and land inside her spacious cabin. Lovely swoop to the wings when viewed from behind, too. Reminds me of a woman's bottom. Not just a woman's bottom that you might see walking down the street, but a really nice woman's bottom, that could have some engines attached to it, and it could fly, and it would be a double-decker woman's bottom.

Yes, the A380 is that majestic, it inspires poetry.

I haul ass off the plane and walk through Pearson and face the gauntlet of American. Customs. Agent.

I always get nervous to some degree, but this time is a breeze. Two questions and I am through.

I grab a horrible dinner at the Molson Pub - a gut-bomb over-cooked gray leather cheeseburger and refried roof tile fries. No time to make a fuss, need that protein no matter how much it is going to sit in my gut like a lump of cement. I really hope that is not my last meal.

I get the necessary overpriced accessories - bottle of water, Dairy Milk bar, and some Mentos (the Freshmaker!).

And now I wait for my (so-far) on time flight to Vegas. Flight 593.

There's not much more I can do now until I get to McCarran to secure my $120 in freeplay and chips.

It all happens in the hour and a half  after I (hopefully) land, later tonight.

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