said the gate agent, who didn’t look remotely sorry. “The flight is full. We have you on standby for the next flight.” Tom struggled to keep his voice even. “I was on standby for this flight.” “Yes. But it’s full. We’ve put you on standby for the next one.” “Which is when?” She click-clacked at her computer for several moments. “Five thirty-five tomorrow morning.” Her face and voice were so expressionless that Tom seriously wondered if she might be a robot. “Tomorrow?” “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have many flights to Cedar Rapids.” This time she did show emotion—disdain, because he didn’t live somewhere more exciting and better served by air traffic. He was still keeping a leash on his temper. “Then book me on another airline.” “That’s against company policy.” “Look, miss. I’ve already been here since noon.” He checked his watch. “That’s almost eight hours. I don’t want to spend the night.” Especially since he’d spent the previous night crammed into a coach seat, first waiting forever on the tarmac in San Francisco, then bumping through the air to Minneapolis.
