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Airport Appearances A shrieking whistle breaks the shadowy silence of the space. I roll over using a dazed groan and knock on the rest. 5:00 a.m. "Why do the nights go so much quicker compared to days?" , I ask myself as I roll back over in a futile attempt to relish the additional seven minutes I've been allowed by the neon globe in my night stand. 5:02 a.m.. There are a couple of things I can see without my glasses at the dim light of the morning, which is one of them: Seven additional minutes are not likely to compensate for last night's fun. It's time to get moving or I'm going to be late. After stumbling down the staircase and to the shower, I recover consciousness and hurry to get ready. It's all planned out. Five minutes to shower (o.k. ten), five minutes to brush teeth, comb hair, etc., ten minutes to put on my face. 5:35 a.m.. In a mad dash I race from the home to my car in a desperate attempt to "overlook" the sub-zero temperatures outside. Impatiently I wait for my car to grind to a beginning and shiver against the ice cube on which I'm sitting. After a few minutes it idles down and I turn the heat on "3", click the locks, slam the door, and dash back inside to change into my uniform. My uniform. If you can call it . 1 gigantic bolt of fabric might be a better word for it. Whoever chose these denim skirts and blouses must have been outside of their gourd. I pull on my socks and then run back down the staircase, a little more awake this time. 5:42 a.m. Good. I succeeded. I am all ready to go and still have time for the breakfast ritual. 2 pieces of toast with honey. I pop them in the toaster and receive honey and butter prepared. Knife at paper and hand towel table, I grab the toast from the toaster and also prepare. I'm operating a lit...