The Rude Air Travelers
The two men from Houston whisked by me as I waited for the TSA agent to use her highlighter and give me entrance to the innards of the Atlanta airport. They had the attitude of those who travel sockless in expensive loafers. Indeed, they had their expensive loafers on, sans socks. The TSA agent was struggling because I had a boarding card, an increasing rarity these days. I lacked the ubiquitous one-sheet print-out from the home or hotel computer. Our TSA agent did not know where to swipe her orange highlighter to indicate that I had a proper travel document. Somehow, in their minds, my sockless friends were fine trotting ahead because, well, TSA was too slow and it was my tough luck. Their world would pass me by. The crackerjack agent that holds her thumb in the dike of terrorism waved them through without so much as a look-see at the papers they flashed. Note to self: Carry a generic print-out of a boarding pass to whisk past not even mildly curious creatures of security habit.
Read the rest of Marianne M. Jennings here.