The Madman Enters the Airport (Part 1, 2 and 3)    (***Filler***)

PART ONE: Two Initial Scenes
 
"Get out of the way, you clumsy buffoon!", belched the trendy hipster trend-setter twitching anxiously behind him, "You're taking too long at the self-service check-in kiosk!  Don't you know anything about social courtesy?!"
 
And so the madman replies:
 
"Well even the high horse gets sent to the jelly factory one of these days..."
 
And with that, the madman grabs his baggage tags and moves on, calmly without a huff.
 
 
 
Then later on, at the x-ray conveyor belt:
 
"Excuse me sir,"  the airport security officer said while tapping him on the shoulder, "You are taking too long claiming your personal belongings.  This is serious.  You aren't supposed to be clumsy here!  You aren't supposed to be enjoying yourself!"
 
And so the madman replies:
 
Well even the golden palace still had to be built..."
 
And with that the madman buckles his belt and moves on, a slight gleam of purpose to his eyes...
 
 
 
PART 2:  Waiting for Departure in the Flight Lobby
 
"And so," the older business lady said, over the seat to another unrelated citizen awaiting her flight too, "because the community is supported by the nearby military base, many of the wives and teenage sons and daughters of the soldiers and officers stationed there, do not need to work as much to support themselves or their families, and thus do not require as much income.  Because there isn't any pressure on them to earn a living, they do not work as hard and as efficiently as a regular employee would, who is driven by the necessity to survive.  I cannot fire these employees because there aren't any other workers available in the town to hire!  It's a real problem, I can barely make a worthwhile profit.  Had I known this I would never have started my business there..."
 
"Well I agree to that!", the unrelated citizen replied.  "Much could be said the same concerning the spouses of any federal department employee!  Especially the government employees themselves!"
 
The madman, three seats over, hears this, and so swivels over:
 
"Excuse me, I could not help it but overhear---"
 
"---Excuse me, sir."  Two armed and wirelessly radio-controlled airport security personnel, solidly positioned on equally black and sleekly compartmented segways  suddenly zoom up in front of the madman's seat.  "Excuse me sir, but could you please refrain from making verbal contact with the other flight patrons..."
 
The madman looks pensively at the ceiling:
 
"Oh, okay, I suppose.  For what reason, may I ask, must I be placed under oath to observe such a protocol?"
 
"Our initial surveillance cameras had picked up on you as soon as you entered our facility, that you were clumsy, not well dressed, and proceeding through the procedures with an unusual level of ease and contentment.  Our microbial scan at the Customs Entrance of your palms, midriff and boot toe confirmed various populations of undesirable foreign microorganisms.  From the insertion of your credit card in the self serve kiosk, of which you made far too many suspicious errors of keypad entry, we were able to retrieve the ranking of your poverty status, and thus investigated all the locations on the planet which you have visited over the past 7 years.  Because of your poverty status, we are not pleased with the locations you have occupied prior to entering this airport facility, and the potential contaminations you now bring to our many well-deserving flight patrons here.  We would please ask of you not to exasperate this terrible situation any further, please refrain from speaking, opening your mouth near others, and keep the exhalations of your breathing to a minimum."
 
And so the madman replies:
 
"Well even the laws of the atomic universes can be refragmented by the mind far too awake inside an aircraft fuselage at 40,000 feet, which could fling apart and plummet into flames at any moment by a single thought alone.  I suppose all the good moody song lyrics out there can only truly be related to, or at least overanalyzed, by someone who has done scary drugs at least once in their lives and has had some horrible insufferable stillness of time to get through during an improper bodily metabolism.  Granted, there are those short-syllabled anthems for all the first kisses that were made in the western world...
 
Oh well, I suppose if love and mating are the only things which need to be done here, at least in this universe, then there is nothing too crucial to be upset about, should the unspeakable nothingness suddenly occur.  I suppose I was happy enough with the backyard I was given as a child, and judging by my current plight of lower than average industrial productivity, I cannot think of doing much more with this Earth, but to one day volunteer at an Amish Farm and re-engineer the reasoning structure of the equations which hold all of these flimsy walls together!"
 
And so the madman silences, and no further comments were made by the accompanying flight patrons or airport security staff.
 
 
 
 
A short moral aside:
 
Really, there is not too much more to things than to be nice to those around you.  To be nice to those of the same species as you, and to be nice to all other living things which you do not have to eat.  Well, you ought to be nice to the things you have to eat too, at least until the moment you have to eat them.  And certainly you should not be eating those of the same species at all!  If you do have to eat another living thing at least put the matter and energy gained by such ingestion to good use, by being furthermore nice unto others.  Nothing could be worse than a life eaten for the sake of waking up crabby and evil the next day.  The point to be got to here, is to just be nice as much as possible!  NICE!  NICE!  NICE!
 
 
 
 
PART 3: The Madman is Approved for Flight Takeoff
 
"Well I suppose," said the madman aloud to the cramped aircraft lavatory walls, "that the only proper, expected course of action for a young man in an aircraft vessel sitting next to an equivalently endeavoured young female flight patron, is to painstakingly purposefully shoot for random, polite and thusforth thwarted connections of conversation over the duration of the flight experience.  That kind of hideous generic intermittent conversations I often overhear between two university types, which admittedly I both enjoy and despise overhearing during my rare and genuine modern aviation flight experiences.  Oh those awkward attempts for timely verbal fluidity without imposition, and the prerequisite requirement to audibly and visually portray great interest in the responses given by such nearby opposite-sexed flight patrons - flight patrons - the most fat-soft-tame mundane of Nature.  Alas, the great crime that I have committed, of which I deserve the punishment of this frail aircraft concept suddenly flaking apart, is that I did not conform to the good look and was thus not suitable for flight conversation.  Many apologies to all the other flight patrons aboard, for not disrupting your evening plans in the slightest!"
 
And with that the madman presses the button of his lost particle into the high heavens, appropriately sanitizes his hands at the cleaning setup, and returns to his seat most amiably.
 
 
 
Later in his seat:
 
And so the Madman exclaims imaginarily
To the twisted, curdled features of lake and wood,
Thousands of feet below,
 
"Alas!  I am inside a modern-day airplane!
  I have a pleasant caffeinated beverage!
  I have fine Persian literature from the thirteenth century!
  And there are many attractive young female flight patrons
  Within my seated vicinity, of which I need not say
                        anything to at all!
 
  Nothing more needs to be done with this Universe!"