Few things shatter our illusion of power than seeing the words delayed flight flash on the screen.
Form a line at the counter.
Tell whoever can hear us that we must get on the next flight out.
As the line snakes around the terminal, some of us grab our phones.
All of us feel a tightness, the air in the place is growing thin.
We must get on the very next flight out.
Some of us do, but most of us relent.
Find a seat beside the window and let someone else determine our fate.