Look Of A Man

I have come home to Arizona for Thanksgiving, and what is a person's first experience on a trip anyplace but its airport? I've always liked Sky Harbor in Phoenix, outside of the time when I had to get home from it via public transportation. Any airport is a fine opportunity for people watching, partly because there are such multitudes there and partly because they are invariably pushed to extreme levels of distress, which is inherently dramatic.

Waiting to be picked up out front, I observed at length a very interesting minor drama whose players were several drivers kept from pulling away from the curb by each other. Everybody ought to see the interest in such a spectacle, but I know not everybody does. I've described such things in the past as compellingly as it is in my power to, so there's no need to go into it any further than I already have. Luckily, there were other things worth mentioning.

There was this man I only saw in passing while heading for the baggage check. He was dressed in about the most cartoonish caricature of a cowboy outfit, with the hat and the boots and all. I thought he looked like one of the Joads or something. I won't deny feeling very derisive. I wondered to myself whether the guy could be for real. He sure looked like he was, but even the people of the most rural, redneck town in Arizona would think he was laying it on a little thick.

I feel remorseful about my attitude. Everybody ought to be at liberty to be who they are without risk of such judgement as mine- within reason. This guy, dopey as I thought he looked, ought not to have to worry about what people will think. Maybe he doesn't. I hope he doesn't, anyway. There's nothing wrong with his clothes or the way he looks. I just think it's probably more evident wherever he lives than in a major metropolitan airport.