On a recent flight home from Northern California, I dashed for my next gate with just enough time to purchase lunch at a kiosk in the Dallas airport. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being hungry on a plane with no food.
“My husband doesn’t need two seats,” a petite redhead piped up in the waiting area, briskly moving a black carry-on and a newspaper out of my way.
“We’ve been in Alaska for ten days,” she continued to chatter as I settled into the seat next to her and munched on raw veggies with ranch sauce before we boarded. Continue reading