Having just missed your connection, you are standing at the ticket counter at JFK in tears because you have just been told that there aren’t any more flights to San Francisco tonight. You, of course, are the first in line because you had flown business class, thus being first in line at passport control, and your three huge bright orange suitcases –nice color BTW – were among the first to come off the conveyor belt. You explain to the ticket agent with gasps of desperation that you just have to get to SF as you have a very important cardiology appointment tomorrow. The agent informs you that there is a flight connecting through LA. “That could work.” No, there aren’t any first class seats available. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly fly coach!” Never once do you turn around to see the line of people growing behind you, as you whine about the injustice of it all. How your flight was delayed four hours in Rome and they duped you into thinking you could make the 6:30PM flight to SF even thought the flight from Rome didn’t land until 6:20PM. An agent with rush passes was waiting for you (and a few others – did you say others?) when you got off the plane. They had given you hope and you had run through the airport only to be told the flight had already left. The line continues to grow behind you. Were there other people on the plane? Did others miss their connection as well? Lost in a world of your own self pity, you’ll never know.
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