Thanks to two nice people who took pity on poor, neurotic, usually-at-the-airport-two-hours-before-the-flight me, I made it to my flight home from Chicago with two minutes, no more, to spare. I’d like to thank those nice folks. And I can come online and do so because we’re now held on the runway for God-knows-how-long. But at least I’m in my seat.
: For contrast, look at the numbskullian behavior of this privacy fetishist at the airport security line. Move on, buster.
