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Leasing a spot in Terminal B seemed like an awesome idea at the time. You know, captive audience or whatever. I didn’t think I needed to check out this space first or like, check out anything at all. I saw those airport masseurs and airport nail techs and thought I’d fit right in. I’d only just finished setting up my table on my first day when a lady approached me and asked “What’s my Georgie doing?” which was totally exciting and confusing. I asked her, “When did Georgie pass?” and she responded, “I have a tasty snack for my baby.” Then she pulled a dog out of her purse and fed him some hummus and pretzels. Had she paid for a reading, I’d have warned her about the impending dog diarrhea. Other than that, I get a lot of lookie-loos, but there’s also an outlet behind my chair. I have been trying some new marketing techniques. This week I’ve got coupons for half off pretzel dogs with an express reading. Most people just ask if they’re going to have to gate check their bags. At least you get to see some things when you work at the airport, though. I spent my lunch break yesterday watching underpants, loose change, and a lone shoe rounding the baggage claim belt. Someone claimed the shoe and I felt so bad for those underpants.