On yesterday’s flights back from San Antonio, there was an odd and somewhat troubling coincidence — on every flight, and in every gate area where I was waiting for a flight, there was a kid crying one of those shrill, keep your nerves on edge cries.
One crying toddler, I can understand. Sometimes, your child is just exhausted and is crying for reasons you can’t even fathom. I get that.
But a crying kid on every flight? That seems pretty suspicious to me. It made me wonder whether the crying kid was stalking me.
Now that I think about it, there were some other pretty suspicious coincidences at the airports, too. Like the hefty guy manspreading to try to discourage people sitting next to him. Or the woman loudly talking into her cell phone and carrying on an unending conversation apparently heedless of the fact that she was sitting in the midst of a bunch of weary travelers. Or the young people sitting cross-legged on the floor, even though there are actual seats available, so you can’t simply walk past but have to carefully navigate through the clutter of hunched-over people, backpacks, and cell phone cords. Or the old people who decide that it’s perfectly okay to stop dead in the middle of concourse traffic so grandma can find her sunglasses.
I mean, what are the odds that would find these same people on every flight and in every concourse?