Do you feel it? It's the future, and it's here
It happened yesterday at San Francisco International Airport. Maybe you smelled the smoke from the impact. Fact and fiction collided with stunning force.
I was waiting on line to board my plane back to the East Coast after visiting the Runaway Bunny (my daughter) when the agent announced the boarding order. First Lifetime Platinum Plus, then Platinum, then Gold, then Silver, then Priority Plus, then Priority, then Ordinary People, then Losers, then Ugly People, then Those with Not Enough Money to Buy a Big Smelly Panini for the plane.
I’m kidding, of course, about the last part, but the first part is the gospel. I stood there as all these privileged flyers moved to the head of the line, sweeping past me and my pathetic Group Three coach boarding pass. Did a disproportionate number of them have blond hair and blue eyes, or was I just imagining? For sure, their hand luggage was classier than my Whole Foods canvas bag stuffed with my dirty laundry. As the high flyers passed before me, I felt my self-esteem draining. Eventually I moved into the plane, couldn’t find any overhead space and flew for 6½ hours with my satchel at my feet.
When I sat down, I was seized by a coughing fit. “Can I have some water?” I choked.
“I’m sorry,” the flight attendant said. “We only have bottles of water for first class, and we aren’t serving yet in coach.”
“In that case, can you do the Heimlich?” I croaked. He found some water.
The amazing coincidence was that in my bag, I had the novel I’m preparing for a discussion group this week: “Super Sad True Love Story,” by Gary Shteyngart. He began writing this futuristic story some six years ago, yet almost all of his wild-eyed imaginings are coming true — and not in a good way.
