A few years ago, I sat—did I say “sat?”—I meant, I was stuck in front of a little girl and her daddy on an airplane. We’d been glued to the tarmac for 45 minutes when we were told for the fourth time that we were delayed again. Ugh.
I blew out a frustrated breath and fumed about everything that was wrong with this airline. I just knew that the past 45 minutes would turn into another 45 minutes and then into four hours and five hours and then … deep breath … I’d miss my connection, be stuck in Chicago and, well, that’s enough. You get the idea. I was not a happy woman.
