I Run An Airport That Caters To A Special Kind Of Clientele

When my wife of 17 years, decided to leave me for some guy she met online, moved to some Bumfuck town in Tennessee to be with him, and laughingly threw divorce papers in my face when she left.

I thought my life was over.

Now, during the divorce hearings, which my wife, or ex-wife, had to drive back from Tennessee to attend, the topic of alimony came up.

At that time, I only made a little over $1200 a month, after taxes, as a janitor/baggage handler, at the local airport in town.

It was a very small airport.

There was just me, and another guy, as well as the owner that worked there, at the time.

Actually, it was categorized by the FAA, you know, the Federal Aviation Administration, as a "basic" airport. We just called it "local"

Anyway, we housed small propeller planes like crop dusters, personal use planes, things like that.

The terminal was actually a double wide trailer, well, a modular home, if you want to be politically correct.

Which I don't, I haven't been politically correct my whole life, so I'm not about to start now.

Anyway, it was a three bedroom trailer. One room was Mr. Reynolds's office. The second room was for storage. The third room, well, it didn't have a purpose, it was completely empty. The waiting area was what would have been the living room, the kitchen was a little snack and drink station, and of course there was a bathroom.

Now, back to the divorce hearings.

Wouldn't you know, my wife, or ex-wife, was kind enough to take half of that $1200 for alimony, claiming she was single, and unable to work to support herself, due to severe I B S.

You know, Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

She was lying, but the judge believed her anyway.

The court system in this country is fucked up!

Now, after the divorce was finalized, I had to move out of the house we were renting, simply because, without having another income coming in, I couldn't afford it anymore.

The rent alone was $850. That was more than I even brought home a month, after the alimony payment.

I left almost everything behind, most of it was hers anyway, and I sure as hell didn't want it.

Anyway, I packed an old duffel bag, with my work uniforms, a couple pairs of socks and underwear, some t-shirts, and a couple pairs of jeans, as well as my phone charger, my toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, and shaving cream.

I put all my CD's, my DVD's, and the DVD Player in a large Scott's Paper Towel box, that I got from the creepy old grocery store in town.

I then threw the duffel bag in the trunk, and gently placed the box in the front seat of my car.

After I moved out, I slept in the car for about a week or so, in the parking lot of the airport, and took an "Amish" bath in the bathroom every morning.

Don't judge!

The morning after the last night I slept in my car, which was a Friday morning, I was mopping the floor in the waiting area, when the owner of the airport, Mr. Reynolds, came up to me.

Mr. Reynolds is an older gentlemen, mid to late 60's, married with 3 grown children, and a really nice guy.

He's the reason I stayed working here.

Anyway, he came up to me and said, "Hey, Richie!"

That's my name, Richie.

Well, Ernest Richundo really.