Suburbs of Our Discontent

United Airlines owes me a new lung. Or else they'll have to scrape my old one off of Concourse C in Newark where I hacked it up running half a mile this morning trying to catch a connection. A connection that I missed by 15 seconds because Mary at Gate 82 just couldn't be bothered to call over to her buddy at Gate 137 and ask her to hold the doors for FIFTEEN SECONDS while I and the other 5 poor schlubs on my late flight hauled ass around the terminal looking like a state fair pig race. I think they take video of people like us doing that and then show it at the office holiday party. That's what I think. I think that we're all Bottoms trapped in their Oberon-esque delusions of grandeur.  Except that Bottom at least got some decent food and a head scratch.