I wheeled into the Lufthansa check-in line two hours early behind a bald, sixty-something dude decked out entirely in Patagonia-wear. We were relegated to the concourse, not the comfy section cordoned off by snaking retractable seat belts. The bald dude was pissed. Grabbing a Lufthansa agent, he demanded an escort to the front because his flight was leaving. She politely told him not to worry, the entire line was his flight. Not to be deterred, he tried sneaking into the Business Class line. That Lufthansa agent then escorted him back into line, nine rolling suitcases behind me (and my smile).
Colby Loucks is an ecologist. In college he never read fiction nor wrote papers. He now loves not only holding books but also reading them.