I will never forget when my tourist ass was bumbling through O’Hare on my way to my gate and this dark haired woman who I have dubbed the Executive Raven went blasting past me in a pencil skirt and 3-inch heels with her little rolly suitcase clacking behind her and I thought, “damn.”
Then I got to my gate and she was already there waiting for her own flight, she’d whipped out a laptop and an earpiece and appeared to be running the entire world so that it wouldn’t collapse in the three hours that she would be on the plane.
You meet a lot of these people in airports. I think me and the OOP don’t meet a lot of them, otherwise.