mr. miles

Book's late.
Near the end of our Denver to Orlando leg of the flight to Florida, one of the flight attendants stopped by our Economy Plus exit row aisle and turned to me, “Well Mr. Miles, is this your last flight of the year?” Somewhat surprised, I replied, “Yeah, but this one isn’t business… how’d you know I have a lot of miles?” “We know things,” he responded, “they let us know when the 100ks or million-milers are on board.” I can’t explain to you how awesome this made me feel. Status, baby; notoriety, son. Somewhere, on that dot-matrix printed flight manifest that shows passenger names, seat locations, and who wants kosher or vegetarian meals – there’s a little asterisk or “100k” next to my name. And I had chalked up the extra snacks, attention, and cups of water offered as we boarded to a particularly good flight crew. Next time I’m gonna expect dark-skinned bikini-clad women dropping rose petals in front of me as I take my seat. Right on.

Merry Christmas y’all!!

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