Double Double

I just got back from Europe. Fairly good times? Alright. I didn't really have consistent access to a stable internet connection, though. That last thing? I did that from my phone. I don't expect that to excuse anything, but it should provide some insight at least. It probably doesn't, though. 

However, I believe that this allows this week's post to be less focused than the standard. No? Alright. I'm going with it anyway.

I'm not fond of airports. I know that this isn't a particularly unique position. My father always said, "Don't sweat the small stuff." That doesn't work for me. I generally allow the small stuff to get to me. Then I can face all the big things with a relatively clear head. 

Unfortunately, airports fall under the category of small things. 

I know why they do these things. Security. Fine. I know that people have their motivations for doing things. Fear is one of them. It's not a great one, but I understand it. I don't agree with it, but it makes sense on its own terms. Everyone has to go through security? Yeah. No one slips by. But then people complained about the privacy issues of children. I'll try to ignore the fact that children are the least private people of all time. I invented a game with my friends when I was a child. Do you know what it was called? The Naked Game. I just don't know what could convince the paranoid security heads to exempt children from some of these measures. They're motivated by fear! If they bend on one rule, the rest become essentially useless. By their logic. They're guarding against bad people, but they let children through. Wait. Do we know anyone who uses children for vile acts? Yes! They're the bad people!

It's not even jealousy. It might be easy to be jealous of these little people who don't have to go through all of this business to board a tin sausage, but it's not. Promise. I just feel that it weakens the motivation behind the whole thing. The people who put these measures in place base their decisions around absolutes. I don't like them, but I can understand their process. My sentiments are definitely not strong enough to resemble respect, but these people definitely seem to be worthy of their own insanity. This sort of random, ridiculous softness takes away from that. At one time, they could be strong, compelling villains to fill the thoughts of fatigued travellers while mottled, amorphous figures in short-sleeved dress shirts endeavoured to scour stray scraps of dignity from languid bodies.

Now? 

Really. No one wants to see a Bond film that features a bad guy who only wants to take over half of the world.

I just got back to the city, and the most vivid victory of the day would probably be my acquisition of a small iced cappuccino with chocolate milk instead of cream from Tim Hortons. It reminded me of something, though. A missed opportunity. Don't worry. It wasn't mine. I don't really do that thing anymore. The thing of missed opportunities. 

No. This one falls clearly on the padded shoulders of the one name that gives me any fragile splinter of Canadian pride. That guy with the coffee. 

Recently, Tim Hortons changed their coffee sizes. I only drink their small iced cappuccinos with chocolate milk instead of cream. Thus I am entirely unaffected by this. Anyway. They added a fifth size at the right end and moved each size name to the left. The old medium size is now the small one. But the old small size is now called "extra small". Seriously? I don't see the fun. They should have kept the same names for everything. The name of the new size should have been filled with unrestrained wildness. I don't even want to give examples. This might sound surprising, but I'm not thoroughly found of crying over lost chances at greatness. This? This coffee thing? They had a chance at greatness. You know what could have been. You remember the great names. You were there for the Nineties. 

Maybe I will order a coffee in the new size. Two lumps of sugar. Two spoons of tears.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.