Join the Debate!
Login in to Post Your Comments
Almost exactly 10 years ago, I boarded a Northwest Airlines plane in Minneapolis. As I started toward my veal-pen seat in steerage, I saw the faces of the preboarded aristocrats in business class. But before I could glare at them with proletarian rage and envy, I heard a loud bang and felt a sharp pain on the top of my head. Everyone looked to see what the sound was; even the two flight attendants chatting like village women around the well broke off their no-doubt-vital conversation.
The source of...
A No-Fly List? Count Me In
Looking for "Middle Easterners" (not that you can tell that just by looking) won't make you or anyone any safer.