It's the mid-1990s at Washington National Airport. An unassuming, bespectacled guy in a trench coat ambles up to the USAir Shuttle counter. The agent is singularly unimpressed. The would-be rider wants on the next flight, leaving now. She says no and sends him down the hall to the Delta Shuttle, like a kid bound for the principal's office. He just misses the half-hourly departure up to New York LaGuardia. Grudgingly, the agent books him on the next USAir Shuttle ...

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