We're headed back to Jacksonville this afternoon after a quick business engagement last night, and as we were entering a special security line at the airport, a rotund woman dressed in a blue uniform threw her body in front of me.
Andrew has all of these God passes because he travels three hundred and sixty four days of the year, and they translate into perks like cheap travel and room upgrades and being able to get free drinks for an entirely full 747.
We also never stand in line.
But, apparently, we never used to stand in line, because the Executive Security Line Nazi Lady was on some sort of acid trip, I mean power trip, and wouldn't let me through, because I didn't know the special handshake or password or Morse code for HAMBURGER. And we were sent to stand in the regular line. Even though it was backed up to Peru. Even though Andrew flies through their airport more than their own pilots. Even though there was no one else in the Executive Line.
So we moved over to the slow lane, and minutes later we watched as the Line Nazi called out a woman who was jumping ahead. And then the woman pulled up the leg of her pants and revealed a steel prosthetic. And we were all, "Ha. Ha! Take that, beeeeee-otch!"
She had one leg. One. Leg.
Don't you feel stupid, Line Nazi?
But, no. No, she didn't. In fact, she was all, "Too bad. Too bad for you. END OF THE LINE, GIMP!"
And right to the back she was sent.
I am so not making this up.