Presidential Privilege

It was years ago, Phoenix in August, temperature on the tarmac above 127 degrees, and I was ready to get out of the desert if I had to hitchhike. Crowding onto the plane, I was pleased to find I'd snagged a bulkhead seat up front--but it was already occupied by a tall guy in a serious suit with dark shades on his face.

"Excuse me," I said, showing him my stub, "but I think you have my seat." Shades didn't even look at me. I stood there awkwardly and let the hordes jostle past me.

Finally, a flight Read more