Dear 2200-gallon oil tanker truck at the airport,
Thanks for being a rickety, finicky, huge old thing. It makes me freak out less to drive you than a new(ish) turbo charged 5 speed car with a delicate clutch.
Dear propane-powered forklift at the airport,
You are pretty fun to drive– kind of like the cross between a boat and a go-kart.
Dear Douchebag Passenger who yelled at another station agent,
You know, just because Era operates at a small airport here in Homer DOES NOT mean we don’t follow FAA & TSA rules. Don’t get pissed just because you are old and wrinkly. Everyone gets old. That doesn’t mean rules don’t apply to you. And if you want to scream that the rules “stupid” and be rude and abusive to my co-workers, then try that immature behavior out at a big airport and see where it gets you. At least we don’t tase you here (yet).
Dear Reese’s Peanut Butter Easter Eggs,
Can. Not. Resist. YOU.
Dear Running Shoes,
I miss you.
You need not apply to the rental ad we have. Please.