The Rush to the Plane

Everyone's in a hurry

Cecil glanced at his phone for the time, and then checked his ticket again: 22 minutes before his plane backed out of the gate.

“Excuse me? Can I go ahead? My plane leaves in 20 minutes,” Cecil said as he tapped on the shoulders of several of his fellow passengers in the TSA security line. Plenty of personnel manned the security scanning machines, but only two ID checkers worked the line.

More than 30 passengers already let Cecil cut in front of them, and he was getting bolder with each attempt. Since most had been in Cecil’s predicament at one point in their lives, they understood the panic.

A hippy with dreadlocks down to his waist didn’t accept Cecil’s premise.

“No. Sorry, buddy,” the hippy said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes too. We’re in the same boat. You going to Tampa?”

“Yep, same flight probably. You’re not worried you’ll miss the flight?”

“No, not really. They won’t leave without me.”

“What?” Cecil asked. “Are you the pilot or something?

“Or something,” said the hippy.

“No, really. What makes you think they’ll hold the flight for you?”

“I’ve got the last set of keys to the plane.”

“Keys? Planes don’t start with keys, do they?”

The hippy said, “How else?”

“I don’t know if you’re lying or not.”

“Next in line, please,” said the TSA agent.

Cecil walked to the counter, trying to determine if the hippy was telling the truth.

“Next in line,” said another TSA agent to the hippy.

The hippy had his ticket and ID scanned, and was through the security scanner first.

“I hope you’re able to make your connection, my friend,” said the hippy. “Have fun in Tampa.”

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