I was having a bad morning at the airport this morning. I was flying out of the Marine Air Terminal, which is the terminal that time forgot, at LaGuardia, which is the worst airport in the world. (The world, I tell you.) Then the machine that prints boarding passes couldn’t find my itinerary. This proved to be my fault because I had told it that I was flying to O’Hare instead of Midway, but it still did nothing to improve my mood.
What did improve my mood, however, was the TSA official who, while checking my ID, winked at me and told me, “Back when I was a hippie, I was quite familiar with your neighborhood.”
I like knowing that all TSA officials aren’t humorless.