The greatest people-watching, outside of porn, is at the airport. It is like a big savannah watering hole, where you are exposed to females from unfamiliar groups.

I don't know if these girls are truly hot, or merely "airport hot," but any woman of legal breeding age looks stunning next to the sloths riding the beeping golf carts.

There was one girl I was bird-dogging this week as I was waiting to board a plane to Tampa for the Super Bowl. She was brunette and fresh, so I waited behind her in the line at the Chinese food place, just so I could stare at her hips.

Then I witnessed her bitching out a sullen airport food worker, and she became ugly to me. Her former doe eyes morphed into cross eyes, and she looked heavier and more muffin-topped as she shoveled noodles into her face at an alarming rate. The noodles hanging out of her mouth made it look like she had just unhinged her jaw and eaten Medusa feet-first. And my day only got worse.

I'm at the urinal trying to burn a hole through the urinal cake, when in walks Bluetooth Guy. He is yakking away as he enters a stall and sits. I wisely got out of there before the bomb hatch opened, and scurried toward the plane for refuge.

As I entered the plane, I noticed that we had a female pilot. A female pilot normally would have made me nervous, as I imagined her putting on her lipstick in the rearview mirror during takeoff. However, one look at her and I knew that she hadn't worn lipstick since the one time at a junior high sleepover, when the girly girls made her up to look pretty, and she felt so uncomfortable that she got a mullet cut the next day.

As I sat down in the exit row, I find out I am sitting next to Chatty Middle-Aged Woman. She had just gotten a divorce and wanted to tell me all about it.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I've really got to read this," I said as I held the plane-exit diagram card in my hands.

"My ex-husband used to read that before he decided after 22 years of marriage he wanted to get his own apartment ..."

I got up and moved to the only empty row on the plane.

Thirty seconds before we pushed away from the gate, I heard a loud voice barking, "Excuse me! Coming through." In walks Bluetooth Bathroom Guy, and he sits down right next to me.

"Sorry, man. I had to drop a deuce. Hey, aren't you from The Ticket?"

I pretended to be asleep for two hours.

Hear Gordon on "The Ticket" KTCK-AM (1310) weekdays from 5:30 to 10 a.m. E-mail him at gordon@gordonkeith.com.

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