Voyeur in the Concourse

If there is anything, anything at all, positive about being stuck in an airport for hours waiting for a flight it's the opportunity to people-watch.

Okay, let's be honest - I'm not watching all of the people. Only 50%.

Women. Girls. Females. Hotties.

Girls. Everywhere, girls. All shapes and sizes and colors and cultures. Blondes and Asians and African-American beauties. Girls-next-door and high maintenance divas.

All passing through my strategically chosen viewing space. All unaware of my gaze.

Girls everywhere. Some in a hurry - some lingering. Some in a group - some making their way to whatever destination alone.

Where are they going? Where have they been? Are they on my flight? Would they sneak off with me to the lav to join the mile high club anonymously?

Girls everywhere. Elegant outfits. Jeans. Pantsuits. Casual. Comfortable. Ocassionally sexy. Bell bottoms and ankle-length skirts and hoodies.

Girls walking everywhere. Boots. Tennis shoes. Sandals. And Uggs.

A couple here. A family there. Civilians and stewardesses. (Stewardii?)

Girls everywhere. Moms. Teens. Basketball teams.

It gives me a smile. So many beautiful girls!

Thank you ladies, for making my layover bearable.