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Hierarchy of Airport Crushes
The random, smoking-hot people walking through the terminal, wherever they’re walking to — not your gate, not your flight, never to be seen again.
The attractive/vaguely attractive people in line at the winding security checkpoint who slowly pass you every five minutes.
The hottest person at the bar closest to your gate.
The hottest person you pass in the plane once they’re already sitting down, in first class.
The hottest person you pass, in regular class.
The hottest person in your line of vision once everyone’s already sitting down.
Matt Damon, in the Bourne movies.
Jeremy Renner, ditto, but only for the first 20 minutes.
Whoever takes a super-hot, incredibly short time in the lavatory while you’re waiting in line for it.
The plane itself, for existing.
…Which is also a flotation device.
[Why do they give you so many free drinks, sometimes, if there’s even the remotest possibility you’ll have to be looking for an emergency exit, which is possibly behind you, with a thing over your face or a blow-up tube in your mouth, or not in your mouth yet, and trusted to not be scrambling for your stuff?]
Every person whose name is on a car-service piece of paper in the baggage claim area, whoever they are, whatever amazing lives they might be leading.
I’m not sure if this list goes up or down, or crests in the middle.