There's a lady in front of me nervously smunching on a hard-boiled egg held in her right hand. She thinks that everyone is watching her. Her hands move in quick yet unsure jerks as she now fishes in her bag and successfully locates a small piece of chocolate and subtly releases a sigh of relief, saving herself the embarrassment of everyone seeing her rustle rather franticly through her bag and not pull anything out of it. I hope the chocolate calms her down a bit.
There's an embarrassingly fat younger man with a thin goatee in a supersized green bay packers shirt napping loudly. He doesn't snore, but somehow I hear him sleep. I think he's just so big that he constantly emits sound waves. Or maybe its like a cat purr.
A red-nosed man with well-kept hair sits two seats away from napping fat guy and scans the room confidently. He wears a yellow oxford shirt that attempts to conceal his beer gut but fails, blue slacks, and penny loafers. He is incredibly proud of his blonde mustache, which sits thick and strong on his upper lip and seems to glare at the other passengers as intensely as he does. Everyone sitting at gate A14 knows that this man is in charge. What he is in charge of, however, is not quite clear.
The rest of the passengers slowly filter in, many looking rather confused (gate A14 is at the very end of the terminal), and although the screen above the check-in counter says "Duluth, MN," they cast sideways glances at the people next to them, seemingly suspicious that they know something that everyone else doesn't- that this is the wrong gate, or perhaps that the plane has already left, or maybe they know what the source of that foul odor is. Hmm....
When they see the confident blonde-mustache man, they relax. He knows what's going on. He knows the answers. It's all going to be okay, says his mustache.