Email from/to Mark

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I love getting email from my older brother Mark. It's the most confused of all my relationships.
 August 15-16th
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 Email from Mark: Mme?  Did the airline get u out?
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Email reply from Mme L:
How astute of you to remember.  Yeah.

Yes: by the very hair of my teeth. By FIVE stinkin' minutes and only because one of the pilots was double-parking his previous flight.
Many didn't make it home at all and I had no kids, no plans I couldn't get out of today. I felt very guilty and you know I don't favor guilt. There were two large packs of  Chinese high school student totaling more than 120; these were informed that there two flights connecting back home  had been cancelled outright. Confusion, mayhem, hysteria. Bad very bad.

I was a complete disaster: I may have burst into stress induced tears at the back of the plane on the first flight only to have two Marines, an off duty stewardess, a returning  co pilot pat me on the shoulders, hand over large amounts of Kleenex and prevent me from passing out/vomiting/collapsing completely. For I am a hysterical, dramatic person.

THE PRICE?: My elephantine embarrassingly purple bag may be lost forever. I hope the stinkin' Bag  Recovery Syndicate finds the cheese in time.

And if you see "Chris" from the Reagan Int'l airport (a building exactly as hideous as it sounds), feel free to punch him in the face for me. What an utter dick. 

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