The Airport Rule

Eevery time you need to go an airport, take a week off your life expectancy.

My flight is four hours late, the next flight to Frankfurt turns out not to exist ("I know the computer shows that flight, but it shouldn't."), and there is an unpleasant episode when I need to run from one terminal of the airport to another -- with my travelling-in-Europe backpack on my back, of course.

I wind up having to deal with six different airline employees, and by the time they have sorted out the unexpected problems my innocuous-seeming reservation poses, the actual "ticket" they issue me consists of two handwritten sheets of paper. Free airline travel for life can't be as simple as stealing the special pad of paper on which these "tickets" have been written, can it?