Quotes About Airport

He sat desiring the girl - a speed-hardened straw-colored junkie stewardess, a spoiled Augustana Lutheran, compounded of airport Muzak and beauty parlor school. Her eyes were fouled with smog and propane spray.

More than anything, one is struck by the light. Light everywhere. Brightness everywhere. Everywhere, the sun. Just yesterday, an autumnal London was drenched in rain. The airplane drenched in rain. A cold wind, darkness. But here, from the morning's earliest moments, the airport is ablaze with sunlight, all of us in sunlight.

Are u at the airport yet? Yep. They pushed my flight back to 3 so I'm going to be sitting here awhile. That sux. What r u gonna do? Gonna hit the food court. Gonna hit it so hard it CRIES. Mom got the bike going. She's out riding around. She wearing her helmet? Yes. I made her. Coat too. Good for you. That coat adds +5 to all armor rolls. LOL. I love u. Have a safe flight. If I die in a plane crash remember to always bag and board your comics. Love you too.

I can't believe I agreed to this shit. One minute I feel like some lovesick fool; then I remember that kiss, the way you ran to me at the airport, and I can barely breathe.

landing at Montgomery's airport and feeling the intense hatred in the eyes of three white men

Now it was dark. The airplane descended over Chicago, its galaxy of electric lights, the vast neighborhoods coming clearer as the plane glided toward the airport--streetlights, headlights, stacks of buildings, ice rinks, a truck turning at a stoplight, scraps of snow atop a warehouse and winking antennae on faraway hills, finally the long converging parallels of blue runway lights, and they were down.

It tasted like all foreign spirits do after they've passed through Heathrow. Wrong.

My father offered me a Super8 camera that he bought in some Brazilian airport. I was 16, and shot a reel with my best friend Juan Solanas jumping from the Pont Neuf bridge. It was my first psychological drama.

I buy so much when I go through airports: I buy psychology magazines; I buy 'Mind,' another magazine, 'New Scientist,' 'Scientific America.'

Imagine if every airport would blast Brian Eno. I bet going through security wouldn't be as difficult. I can't imagine someone being aggressive with me with Brian Eno music pumping through the terminals at LAX.

I get most of my reading done whenever I'm in the airport waiting on a flight, have some time to kill, and I have a book with me.

The best thing about my house is that I live five minutes from the airport, and since I fly more than I drive, it saves me a lot of time.

I hate flying. I literally cry in the airport sometimes. I didn't used to; the more I fly, the worse it gets. It's weird!

Mr. Hardy had already booked two seats on a one-thirty airline flight. The boys drove to the airport, left their convertible in the parking lot, and were soon boarding a sleek jet. An hour later it landed at the Philadelphia airfield. Frank and Joe caught a taxi to the modernistic plant of the Noltan Medical Company. Mr. Noltan, a burly man in a tweed suit, greeted them with a firm handshake.

Today, I am a touring standup comic who cannot stand up. Within three minutes, I begin to wilt, lose my balance, and topple over. I can tap dance and run in heels, but I need to use a wheelchair to navigate airports.

I've never played in Vegas. I've only been to the airport, but even the airport was exciting. Just flying in, looking out the window, you feel the pull of it, like it's some evil force pulling you in, like Mordor.

With Stewart International Airport located here, the New Windsor Police Department has an added responsibility to take anti-terrorism precautions while protecting our area.

I would vote for Bush if for no other reason than to be at the airport waving off all the people who say they are going to London if he wins again. Someone has got to stay behind.

When I met my Thai fans at the airport, all my stress went away. I don't feel lonely. I have friends like Kwang Soo to keep me company, and my fans make me feel loved.

When I walk through an airport and people go, 'You're not fat!' I'm like, 'Thanks. That's great. Good to know I'm not fat today! Thank you!'

JFK was an asylum, a processing plant, a study in chaos—snaking lines, recorded announcements, furious passengers with their taped-up baggage, clerks fielding complaints in the midst of the madness. For the better part of an hour

A citizen walking through the airport today is bombarded with 1984-style propaganda messages that are designed to make us fear some amorphous threat and also be suspicious of others. The government designs these messages to make us feel dependent and heavily lorded over in every aspect of our lives. These messages are becoming ever more pervasive, hitting us even in grocery stores when we are shopping.

She loves me?" Vincent nodded, then grinned. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in your car and get to the airport. Follow her," he said. "You have to go explain the truth. Tell her everything. She loves you, Bastien. You need to tell her you aren't dying, and that she will never have to watch you die a long lingering death.

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will. Finding my mother in my father's story and saying good-bye before I have a chance to know her better.