Flew to San Francisco Thursday on American Airlines. It's been a while
so I'd forgotten about that lovely "class" system where the word
"economy" means, "maybe if you'd worked a little HARDER, we wouldn't
HAVE to treat you this way."

I
wasn't in the airport five minutes when it became quite clear to me
that someone at American had gotten a hold of the balance in my
checking account because when I attempted to board the escalator to get
to the security area, I was immediately told,

ESCALATOR BLOCKER LADY: "This is for first class passengers only. You need to go that way."

Now
"that way" was another escalator, located at the very far end of the
terminal which lead to the second floor, whereupon, I had to walk
AAAALLLLL THE WAY AROUND the perimeter of the inside of the building in
order to arrive at the SAME EXACT security point that I saw at the top
of the FIRST ESCALATOR for which I was apparently too POOR to ride on.

As
I did the "walk of shame", I kept my eyes on the ground. I could feel
my shoulders caving in and a small hump growing right out of the center
of my back. Needless to say, by the time I arrived at the gate, I was
so full of self loathing that nothing short of my flying in the belly
of the plane seemed appropriate. Fortunately, the gate attendant didn't
agree with me and to my "delight" I was assigned a middle seat.

The
flight was so packed and we were all so tightly wedged into our seats,
I thanked God for the first time in my life for "blessing" me with
short stumpy legs. We'd just pulled away from the gate when the gal
next to me started coughing up a lung without bothering to cover her
mouth. I'm guessing she was too busy blowing her nose to realize that
contracting TB was not my ideal way to begin a vacation. Every time she
coughed, I put my newspaper over my head while the gal in the aisle
seat kept her nose buried in her suit jacket. Finally, "TB Lady" got
the hint and began to cough into her hand instead. Of course by then, I
knew it was too late and me being my mother's daughter, was already
wondering how many days I'd be quarantined before I was deemed healthy
enough to rejoin the general population.

By the time we
landed, not only was I questioning whether I should ride into the city
via taxi or ambulance but pretty much every choice I'd ever made in my
entire life. Then we got to baggage claim and as all the first class
passengers stood there waiting and watched as my bag came out FIRST,
all I could think was, "Okay, sure I have no money and yes, it's likely
that I won't live to see tomorrow but at least I get to leave NOW."