Overheard while I was talking myself through an overnight delay at Reagan National Airport:
"An airport without irony isn't an airport. It's just a place where all the planes fly out on time." The wife doesn't appreciate my wit in such situations, so I'm looking elsewhere for validation.
The
lady with the shoulder-length hair and caked-on makeup at the DCA US Airways Shuttle Check-In Counter could well be the surliest person ever to take up the mantle of "Customer Care Professional." I've gone to war with at least five employees at that counter over the past two years, but she almost came over the counter — unprovoked, I might add — at my even-keeled wife. Whew! I had the 'blog in mind and was hoping to get her name this morning so I could enrich this posting with proper nouns. But — alas! — she doesn't work Mondays (too much risk of combustion there, I suppose, with all of us who would
"shoot the whole day down"), so I'll have to wait three more weeks before this semi-public shaming tribunal proceeds in full force through this first case on its docket. But hold me to it, blessed readers — or in my nerves and haste I'll forget to scrutinize her lapel tag.
Incidentally, the First Circuit Court of Appeals (that's MA, ME, NH, and PR) appears to be evenly
divided on whether the government can force you to take off your clothes for no good reason. So next time you're in New England, moon a cop, and when he asks what you're up to, tell him you're just "assuming the position."
