I’m at the airport waiting to check in to fly from New York to Minneapolis. I wait in a long line to check in and get my boarding pass. Once I’m through the line I realize that I’ve forgotten something at home, so I keep my bag with me.
I drive home through streets with a thick sheet of ice on them. The car slips and slides across the lanes.
When I get home I frantically pick out some clothes to wear. I have a whole closet full of pants and sweaters in different colors, but it’s hard to pick out new combinations that match with my shoes, and I wind up wearing the same things all the time. I choose a couple of different outfits and race back to the airport.
When I arrive at the airport I check my watch; it’s about 5:45 and the flight leaves at 6:05. I dash down a long hallway, like in a hotel, and get to a junction where I need to follow the signs to my gate. The sign pointing to Gate 6 leads to a door, and when I open it I see that I have to go down a long flight of stairs. I look around to see if maybe I’ve gotten the directions wrong, but it turns out I have to drag my bag down the stairs with me. I’m super annoyed about this.
I return to the gate and ask if I can still check my bag before the flight leaves. There is another man in line ahead of me and he’s still checking in. His last name is McGrane too even though I’ve never seen him before. When I hand over my frequent flyer card to the gate agent he looks at it and says it doesn’t look any different from the card belonging to this stranger. I respond “It isn’t, except the name.”
