Beside me, an outdoorsy young couple plays cribbage. The two women look to be about 20. They feed each other pretzel chips by hand, and wear what appear to be matching engagement rings. I have never before seen someone play cribbage, and have to ask what game it is. They are coming from a wedding.
The flight lasts three hours.
In Seattle, I enjoy a salad and juice during a two-hour layover. I walk back to my gate on the heels of a certified genuine rodeo cowboy, complete with boots, hat, sponsor-embroidered shirt, and Canadian National Rodeo Champion jacket. In his hand he holds some tangled assortment of cotton and leather—hard to identify from my angle, but possibly a halter and leadrope. He clanks and clatters as he walks, and when he's passed I think to wonder if he got his spurs past security.
I am looking forward to getting home.