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Frequent Flier

In the distance I can see the quirky airport ticket agent has an edgy tattoo and a slight iridescent sheen to her skin. Her spectacular rhinestone globe earrings that rotate in opposite directions are only upstaged by her outrageous blue/purple eye makeup. Simultaneously fabulous and peculiar. I cannot take my eyes off her, but no one else seems surprised by her unrestrained appearance.

With my luggage stacked high and teetering in the cart, I navigate my way to the counter. The ticket agent tells me that I can save my frequent flier miles by acquiring my own tattoo that will serve as a portal to other dimensions and I can leave the burdensome luggage right where it sits.

When I look down at my top-heavy cart it has become a big nest of fluffy, squeaking chicks exuberantly flapping their little wings. At that moment the clerk informs me that it is time to board. I know that when my plane takes off that my chick babies will mature and fly on their own path.