The airport, 4:09 p.m. – Bad fashion abounds!

Coming at you live on tape delay – all the action, all the fun – all the old people you can handle – 21 Minutes at the airport!

Old ladies love dogs. One old bird is here to pick up another old bird. The pickup crone has band-aids on her nose, forehead and hands, but she has a death-grip on this fluffy Shi-Tzu puppy’s leash. The dog is in canine heaven – what with all the airport sights, sounds and smells.

PuppyCrone is here for two wafer-thin old people dressed in that generic “old people traveler” style – slacks, t-shirts and those horrid navy-blue windbreakers. The reunion that is going on with this puppy is embarrassingly sloppy. Somebody is going to get rabies at this point. Now the old bald man is scolding his wife, who apparently went the other way off the plane and got here late “YOU SHOULD OF WENT THE OTHER WAY.” Damn. Maybe she had to take a pee or something.

There is so much action. Oh Kali. And so much bad fashion. SO MUCH BAD FASHION!

I just saw a woman wearing ballet flats inside a pair of Birkenstocks. Above the ankle, she was wearing a coordinated outfit of purple culottes and a purple tunic – both screen-printed with white fish skeletons. Her hair is more “Flock of Seagulls” than Q-tip and it is just plain scary.

There are so many old people here. If Florida is God’s Waiting Room – then the airport must the place they come to get pre-certification.

Off to the right of me, two old people are waiting on a flight.

The old lady is dressed head-to-toe in black – black pants, black VELVET pants, black tunic and a black velvet jacket. Black ballet flats. Even her CANE is black. I’m just shocked her glasses are horn-rimmed and not black plastic. Maybe the optician was out of black that day.

Her traveling companion is trying to read the newspaper – but he’s obviously got vision problems and is holding it literally an inch from his nose. Huh. He has black glasses. I wonder if they got their spectacles confused this morning?

I love airports. The constant ebb and flow of people just streaming through all day appeals to the people-watcher in me – plus there is just so much to do – shop, eat, spectate.

There is an old man in an orange Tommy Bahama shirt wearing Ray-Bans indoors. Just say no to the faux pas. Unless you’re Jack Nicholson. Wait. Not even if you’re J.N. It is just wrong.

The Starbucks here is doing a land-office business – although to be fair – any coffee bar in any airport in the world is going to be doing good business unless it is truly serving horrible coffee.

Wow. There is an middle-aged woman pushing a man in a wheelchair across the lobby. She’s pushing him in the chair and he’s dragging a pair of wheeled suitcases out behind him. From the side, it sort of looks like she’s driving some sort of bizarre chariot.

And now there’s a howler monkey. Howl on. At least you’re off the plane.

I really thought this was going to be an interesting entry, but I’m having trouble trying to focus on one thing. Bad fashion aside – which does give an enormous amount of pleasure to me – there is only a limited amount of attention I can give to people walking and rolling suitcases across the lobby.

Bad fashion alert. Crazy hippie chick or some fair approximation thereof. She’s super-skinny and wearing those tapering jeans that make her legs look even more like toothpicks. She’s jammed her legs into some sort of odd red boot, which she has chosen to pair with a violent magenta nail polish and a shiny blue metallic bag. That brown sweater the color of dead grass in January does nothing to pull the outfit together.

To be fair, Coco Chanel probably couldn’t design anything to pull that outfit together.

My time is up. My flight is being called. Peace out.