Public restrooms – especially those in airports – cater to the mysophobic, or those who have an unnatural fear of contamination or infection. It is as if every traveler has the potential to be patient zero in a worldwide pandemic, and the only potential to avoid this has to do with the fact that you should never need to touch anything in a bathroom ever again.

I mention this because in said Admiral’s Club (The one in Terminal 3, Concourse G) there is a brilliant piece of hygienic tech in place: an automatic seat-cover changer. That’s right, automatic. No more pulling those butcher paper seat-covers out of the rack above the loo and placing them ever so carefully over the actual seat; it’s all done for you! Simply wave your hand at the machine, wait about 40 seconds, and with a clunk, a whirr, and a zip, the sheaf protecting your bottom from the germs of your fellow potential disease-carriers is right in place!

In a way, the technology is very cool. With so many people in one place, I have no doubt that airports are centers for disease. However in another way, it seems to represent the self-imposed isolation that we endure in the name of cleanliness and germaphobia. Look, but don’t touch anything, ever, period – and hope that the spirit in the sky will save you should you actually touch someone or something!

Now that I’m wrapping things up, I have one more thing to admit: I’m amazed I actually made it through the entire article without a joke about excrement. All of your, dear readers, should be proud, as that was my full intention when I started writing.

Happy Travels, and maybe I’ll see (or at least hear – clunk, whirr, zip) you in Chicago some time!

Now it’s pretty obvious that if you live in Dallas and you fly with any regularity, you will end up flying American at some point. It’s the same reason as if you live in Houston, you end up flying Continental, or in Atlanta, you end up flying Delta, or United in Chicago. They’re big, they’re price competitive from their biggest hubs, and they saturate local markets with advertising (in my case, reminding me that they know why I fly, with is both creepy and very big brother is. Note to American Airlines: Please never cross-advertise with Burger King, as I may lose my marbles). I’m a little blurry on the strategy though, I’ll be honest.

If you want to drive fares to and from a an area with exceptionally high competition, wouldn’t you offer double miles on routes booked through that area, say JFK, LaGuardia, and Newark? What makes New Yorkers so special? I feel I’m special, and I’m travelling to New York, so I lose out on miles because I live in Texas?

Oh, I suppose there’s some key there, a survey that said New Yorkers fly American Airlines less than the competition, and so there’s a bit more drive to give all New Yorkers a, well, an AAdvantage, right? Doubling miles for someone living in Syracuse or Buffalo because they happen to fly on American seems a bit ridiculous, though.

So how about this: really score one with the home team, American. Double those miles for New Yorkers and Texans – or run promotions so that what you give to someone else, you’re always sharing here at home. If you’re increasing market cap, what can it hurt to reward the people that are right in your pocket already?