Ode to LAX

Though you are a dated giant, your size does not impede
One’s navigation through you, with above average speed.
Your circular existence and multitude of lanes,
Sharply counteracts Sea-Tac, where I sit and wait in vain.

You have a cell phone parking lot off Airport, to the right.
(Although this is quite creepy when waiting late at night.)
You don’t have much to offer, in aesthetics or swank appeal
But what you do have, LAX, you give to us with zeal.

Hidden treasures at each gate abound, from Ruby’s to Cinnabon
Lots of bathrooms, lots of signs, a few seats to sit upon.
This is not to say you’re perfect, you have flaws without a doubt.
Your bathrooms really irk me; why can’t the stall doors open out?

You always tend to smell the same, like stale coffee, paper and feet,
But give me a choice between you and MSP; your system can’t be beat.
Dropping off or being picked up for departures or arrivals
Is effortless with you, my dear, no fighting for survival.

I love the way you have dividers, which separate street from gates,
I do hate checking bags, however, because I cannot stand your wait.
I smile when I exit, as your AC gives way to heat,
And I love that you’re accessible via freeways or surface streets.

It’s easy to get to you on time, my love, and drop-offs are just heaven.
(And I also love your “secret” shortcut to United’s Terminal 7.)
I’m proud to call you my hub for all the world’s destinations
Your marvelous cement exterior is certainly a divine creation.

I hope you get a facelift soon, so you can be at your very best.
But keep the Autopia voice outside that greets your weary guests.
I’ll get right to the point, mon cher, you’re my favorite airport, LAX.
Even with all of your flighty flaws, you are still the sex.