It's my latte and I'll cry if I want to...

I'm on my way to New York City for a long weekend with my "young man friend". The excitement is bubbling inside not only to spend three solid days with my boy but also the notion in just a few hours I'll be in one of the greatest cities in the world. There is something about New York City in the winter that is magical. The icy wind barreling down the avenues…the white (well, sometimes black) snow that blankets New York that seems to quiet the constant hum of the city.

I get to my gate, sit down and continue to put myself together after the emotional violation of getting through security. As I finish up tying my shoes and eloquently repacking my unmentionables I look over and see a 5-year-old little girl dancing. Now, this isn't the kind of dancing you see MTV's TRL or anywhere you'd fine yourself on a Friday night, it's that unbridled body shake you see kids do to no particular rhythm.

She is so excited to be traveling she's just shakin' her little groove thing. I thought to myself, "I'm super excited to be heading to New York. Why aren't I moving MY arms in opposing directions and stomping MY feet with a goofy smile?" When do we lose that childhood magic that allows you to lay on your back on the floor kicking your feet to a song you just made up in your head? Seriously. When do we lose that childhood wonder?

Jealous of this kid's energy I go to the Starbucks kiosk to get a cup of "get-up-and-go". It's a madhouse. The line is about 20 people deep and the tension is unbelievable. The a**holes of the line are trying to weasel their way in front of the next while the non-a**holes are doing their best to hold on to some semblance of order. Now it is 6am, but come on, what's wrong with these people. The baristas are just doing their best to fill coffee cups and toss out carbohydrates.

I finally get up to the register and order my, "Grande, no foam, skim latte," from the pre-op, Asian, transsexual (awesome) when this red faced, tubby businessman interrupts her from writing my name (WEST as she spelled it) on my paper cup. "Where's MY mocha?!" He yells and the Asian transsexual stares at him blankly. "I want my MOCHA! I've been waiting for ten minutes!" With this single moment this Tubby McTubTubs starts a ripple effect that starts to undulate through the now 25+ people standing around the kiosk in the middle of the United Terminal.

It is amazing. I watch as just about each adult individually reverts back to their 5-year-old selves whining and pushing for a simple cup of coffee. I watch as the three baristas sense a riot. These whiney, pushy corporate drones were yapping like children whose parents said no to some sugary cereal or candy they want at the grocery store.

It then dawns on me. The only part of childhood we ever loose is the magic. Adults are so quick to act like children (insert President Bush comment here) as soon as something doesn't go their way. I mean, come on, how many relationships have you been in where your douche bag ex acted like a total brat? How many adults have you seen throw temper tantrums that could rival any 4 year old? Yup, exactly.

So my take on the situation is this. The next time I find myself with a group of aggressively whiney, snot nosed, moral majority hicks—I'm just going to dance. That's right, dance. I'm going to start moving my arms in opposing directions and start stomping my feet to some dissonant tune I'll make up on the fly. It seems to work for the 5-year-old why not me? Lalala-dumbee-dumdumbum!