Once, many years ago, I had the terrible experience of hopping on a plane for a flight and discovering I had no books, no magazines, nothing to read. How this happened, I don’t know, but it happened. This was in the era before movies were widely available during flights and after the time when stewardesses could offer you magazines along with snacks and sodas.
“This is so sad,” Michael said when glanced over and saw me picking through anything I could find in the seat back pocket.
My father had a similar experience, told me about once rushing to make a long flight and grabbing the first paperback he saw in the airport convenience store. He was forced to read an entire Danielle Steele novel. “My God,” was all he would say about it afterwards, shaking his head.
Pam Troy 