There’s a woman in my town who seems to be everywhere. She is of indeterminate age, and whether she’s at the Metro or the farmers market, she asks passersby for money. Sometimes she sells the homeless newspaper. She usually talks in a kind of sad, downbeat monotone.
Sometimes we want to indulge on a special vacation. We read "Zen-like ambience." How peaceful. "Oasis." Ah, yes. "Holistic therapy for body, mind and spirit." How rejuvenating. But how do those eat-your-heart-out amenities really stack up?
Flying economy class? I'm sure you're anticipating the worst - and no, you're not just getting grumpier as you get older! The seats are smaller than they used to be. Forget about pillows and blankets. Food? Maybe a little bag of peanuts with a tenacious seal. (How'd my seatmate get that thing open? Should I ask him to open mine?)
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