As the plane heads towards Munich I wait nervously for news of my connection. Will I sleep in my own bed or does another faceless hotel room await me. As we land several passengers rush to the door, all eager to get home tonight. I await my turn and put my future in the attendant's hands. Will it be thumbs up, yes you can go home, or thumbs down, a sentence with no chance of parole. A smile, yes, you are ok. In fact the very same plane will be taking you home. Relief. Part of me wants to ask why they couldn't have told me this before, but I resist the urge.
So then I disembark the plane, go down some stairs, get on a bus, drive to the terminal, go up some stairs, walk to the gate, go back down some stairs, get on another bus, head back to the same plane, walk up the same stairs and say hello again to the same attendant I saw only a few minutes ago. All to move 3 rows.
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