you're it

yesterday, due to some simple misplanning on cabs to the airport, i was running for it at o'hare. luckily, i made it with plenty of time, and everything was fine.

there aren't many things in life that i can't find humor about, but as i was sprinting around in the air-p, nothing seemed good about the situation at all. i became a fumed ital, a rarity these days. i was frustrated, sick, and under-rested, and if i was late, i would f up the first workshop.

i got to the gate and thankfully stood in line. i felt a hand on my back. the hand shuffled down slowly and slipped my tag inside my sweater.

i turned around. it was an elderly woman, about 6 inches shorter than me, really pretty. her husband stood proudly behind her, wearing a bomber flak jacket from '47 and glasses. she winked when i spun around. "thank you," i said. "oh, we all have to help each other out," she smiled.

we sure do.