by Tommy Walton

Created on: November 30, 2008

4:37 PM.

Jack slapped his hand against the customer service counter before storming off. Frustrated and aimless he quickly lost himself in the ever present hubbub of the airport. People of all sorts and sizes streamed by, too lost in their own personal worlds to pay any mind to one angry traveler.

Its remarkable how many people pass through airports with so little interaction. Sure, sometimes an amiable road warrior will engage an unsuspecting stranger in idle chit-chat, but that's the exception, not the rule. The rest of humanity rushes through lost in their cell phones, PDAs, and i-Pods.

Of course, none of this mattered a whit to Jack as he angrily stomped and shoved his way across the airport to wait for a plane that wouldn't even land for another six hours.

"God-damn airlines. How the hell do you overbook a flight?! How easy is it to count the damn seats on a plane and STOP SELLING TICKETS WHEN IT'S FREAKIN FULL!"

A short, old, bearded man in wrinkled slacks and a food stained Polo shirt that hardly covered his impressive gut fell in beside Jack, matching his furious strides, a worn black computer bag flapping against his back.

"Whoa there mister, you sound a bit flustered. Gotta watch your language around here, could be kids around."

"Who the hell are you?" Jack snapped back.

"Just a fellow traveler. We're on the same flight."

That made Jack slow a bit as he racked his memory, trying to place the stranger's face. Before he could speak, the short man gave him a knowing smile and gestured back the way they'd come.

"Saw what happened back there at the gate, real tragedy that. Gave up my spot to someone else too, so here we are."

"I didn't give up anything; the damn airline sold my seat to someone else."

"There you go with that language again! Lemme buy you a drink or something, take a sec to cool down", replied the short man gesturing broadly at the string of airport restaurants and bars they were flashing past.

"No, I'm in a hurry." Jack growled back.

"Our flight's not for 6 hours! Take a load of for a while; you don't even know what gate you're going to yet." The short man laughed back.

That brought Jack to a halt. This short fat man was really bothering him for some reason that he couldn't explain, likely his overly friendly attitude, or maybe it was because of his mood. He was right though; Jack had forgotten what gate he was supposed to be going to. Pulling out his ticket, Jack scanned the flimsy white paper for the gate number H1.

"This can't be right there is

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