Milwaukee

My flight from Appleton was canceled. United switched me to Midwest Airlines Washington National via Milwaukee. Now here I am in Milwaukee. The last time I spent an extend amount of time here, I was at the Greyhound terminal. I vowed never to go back. Surprisingly, the airport does not differ much from the bus station.

In the past week I've been to Appleton, Detroit, Boston, and now Milwaukee. I've been unsatisfied with each airport. They continue to try and charge me for wireless, not gonna happen. I'm currently sitting in a TCBY UNO combo restaurant where the only flavors or yogurt are vanilla or chocolate and the personal pizzas have been shipped frozen from Chicago there were improperly reheated in a pizza oven similar to one owned by Downer Commons. They seemed bothered to serve me - I would have been too, I ordered a personal cheese pizza anyways. It didn't taste like home.

One of the woman working has the same accent as Marija from school; annunciates well with strong high pitched accents on every other syllable. She appears to be the manager. Invigorated by her job, she bounces back and forth between the register and pizza, slicing and serving with a funny accent and flowing with pleasantries. A man wearing a Salmon colored shirt just walked behind the counter and helped himself to ice cream. No one was looking; success - no one stopped him, not even Marija. "Can you wait one moment for the cheese pizza please? I'll cash you out on the cash register right there."

The passengers walking by seemed intrigued yet disappointed by the shop. They pause for a moment where the carpet and tile meet - the division between the terminal and restaurant - with their rolling suitcases at their sides. Their lips purse eyes wander as they survey the stand. Then a heavy breath flows from their lungs, and they turn to the Starbucks. I'm unable to figure out why they leave; the walk over here from the gates says "Restaurant" and points in this direction. Maybe they were expecting more than one restaurant. They should have read the sign.

The adolescent employees here were just informed that if everything is clean in 30 minutes, they can eat. I've been here for 20 minutes, and this is the time I've seen them lift a finger. I take that back, one of them filled a cup of soda, which they preceded to drink themselves. Some of the passengers that paused, stared longingly, and moved on are back; they must have realized that this is the only restaurant. They're out of ice cream, the crowd is getting restless.

Starbucks here I come. After that Washington National here I come. I've set this to post via email. I'm not sure how this will work, but as soon as I get a connection it will wend the post.