"I'm From New York"

On my latest fascinating consulting project, I've been traveling to pretty much a different city every week. My manager keeps us on our toes by always identifying both the city and the travel dates at the absolute last minute and after all of the good hotels are full. It is therefore no wonder that by now I am a little bit testy. (ok, so perhaps I have always been testy...)

There have been some great moments. One of my recent experiences will live on in project folklore for years to come, long after I have left my crappy firm.

I was in Chicago's O'Hare airport on a Thursday evening. The terminal was packed to the gills with extremely irritated and impatient people, including yours truly. The line for check-in using the machines was about 50 people long, and there was some nondescript midwestern man three times my size (let's call him MM, because he was shaped like one) standing in front of me, wearing plaid and khaki, asking me random questions about how to get through security (200 person line) the fastest way.

We slowly advanced towards check-in.

S - l - o - w - l - y

...and voila! After 10 minutes, MM came to be the front of the line. The problem was, he was as stupid as he looked. There was an open check-in machine right smack dab in front of him and he was not moving. I hesitated for a moment hoping he would roll himself over there, and then said "I believe that machine is open" in a not necessarily hostile way.

MM sneered and snapped "I have already asked [the airline rep] about it two times and she said it is not working."

(which was total bullshit)

So, I verly loudly, unapologetically, and dismissively said, "I'm from New York"

MM's head turned around in slow motion and gave me the look of death.

I snickered.