Four years ago today, my father was rushing like a madman to get me to the right airline terminal at JFK airport so that I could catch my flight to South Korea. I had accidentally told him the wrong airline, only to check in and find out about 20 minutes later that I was in fact in the completely wrong terminal.
Upon checking in to the right terminal, I learned that my suitcase was about five pounds overweight. “But I am moving away for a year,” I told the woman at the counter, my New York attitude huffing and puffing with each word. She didn’t even bat an eye. This woman did not care in the slightest, and she simply asked that I step aside, re-arrange my bag and come back when I was ready.
