A good place to be a white man

Off the plane in Covington-Cincinnati inter-frickin-national, I hasten to the place to catch a bus to terminal A. There are many signs saying this is the right place for me to be. There is also a portly Caucasian gent who informs us loudly, "Bus to terminal A here." Then, as the bus approaches, he informs us that it is approaching and, as the driver prepares to open the doors, he says "he'll have those door open in a minute."

Just outside of security, a somewhat angry, trim affluent-looking 45-year old with a business cut and neat shirt and tie held up a sign saying something like "Olmos-Fitzguerroya" or somesuch. That would have been inverted in NJ.

Then, the guy who drove the bus (also white) for Enterprise car rental tells me that despite high demand/volume, the rental car prices are low this weekend because prices are high in Indianapolis for the 500. Which makes less than zero sense.

Yes, the midwest is a fine place for a white man to have a menial job and feel no shame.

Later, at the 7-11, four high school girls in bathing suits and a souped up Civic snapped up twelvers of Mountain Dew and Fresca. Ahhhh summer. Straight outta Mellencamp.