I think everybody must like to people-watch. There's something fascinating about being a voyeur into a life that is not your own. Probably because curiosity is intrinsic to the human condition, so it's only natural to wonder who people are, what they do, where they are going, and why that rather large woman in a purple track suit is digging in the garbage can.

To me, even more fascinating than people-watching is watching the people-watchers.

Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport is abuzz with activity, and a group of 5 or 6 girls across from me are soaking it all in like gravy. The beauty of it is that they are hardly discreet in their observations, so I am privy to everything they say. Most of the conversation concerns some random guy they see that they are totally ready to have sex with.

At this point, I have to interject that I am completely oblivious to what makes a guy handsome in the conventional sense. As an artist, I can admire the graceful beauty of the human body, and can extend this appreciation to the male form... but anything past that is lost on me. For example: I just don't "get" Brad Pitt. Yeah, he was buff in Troy, but I don't understand what makes him "hot" at all.

Anyway, back at the airport, I tire of these teen girl fantasies and decide to look for something else to divert my boredom.

And. There. He. Is.

A guy so perfect that I feel less a man for being in his presence. In the blink of an eye, a vagina has appeared where my penis once was. He's a Greek god in perfect mathematical proportion... he's not overly-muscled, but still looks like he could beat the shit out of anybody in the room. I guess "chiseled" would sum up his manly perfection. Dark hair, tanned skin, jutting chin, a T-shirt one-size too small that shows off abs so toned that I wonder if you truly could use it as a washboard. Here is one beautiful man.

To make myself feel better, I tell myself he is "most certainly gay" - but then have to stop thinking that for fear I was secretly hoping he was gay. Then I don't know what to think, because with a guy like this in the dating pool, no woman would ever look at mere mortals such as myself ever again.

And then his girlfriend/wife/whatever shows up. She's hot, of course. But it's hard to tell if she's actually hot... or if her hotness is just reflected glow from his radiant perfection. And just like that, I know what "handsome" is. Brad Pitt is hideous by comparison. As they leave the sitting area, I realize that he is not Greek, but Italian, as that was the language they were speaking.

Whatever.

He's probably got a 2-inch penis. In fact, I'm sure of it.