Once upon a time, I wrote that airports are narrative deserts - places so sterile that narratives rarely unfold in them. But, under certain conditions, such as a busy, understaffed Sunday morning in a mid-tier city, airports can in fact feel like Murder on the Orient Express - everyone suspicious of other people's intents, scornful of the ones who are in longer lines, prideful of the little privileges they enjoy - be it giving their retinal scan to a private company to get ahead in line or paying $100 for 2 inches of extra legroom.
Legit lmfao, one of the funniest pieces you've written