gross

Every other week or so, I travel across the great state of Missouri for work. The easiest and quickest way is by plane, and in order to make an 8:30 meeting, one has to take the 6:55 AM flight out. For me, that means getting up around 4:30, a couple of hours earlier than I'm used to. So it's no surprise that I'm usually not in the best of spirits going through security at the airport.
This morning, I was one of the lucky ones to get a new security screening, the swipe of the hands. Bless her heart, the TSA agent was as nice as she could be, but regardless, I hate being barefoot in a public pool of fungus any longer than absolutely necessary. I should wear socks, I know, but they don't go well with the normal summer business casual attire. But I digress.
As I'm standing there waiting for the test results, I ask if I may put on my shoes. The agent asks me to hold on and assures me the carpets are clean. I must have looked at her strangely because she followed that statement with, "they were steam cleaned and sanitized about 3 weeks ago."
Clean.
Right.
Sick.