It’s been a long time since I’ve been at Sky Harbor to travel anywhere other than France.
Today, I’m heading to Seattle to spend a long weekend with a friend of over forty years — I can hardly believe I just typed that last part. I can’t remember the last time we saw each other.
The very moment I set foot in the terminal, my phone buzzed with the news that my flight was delayed by a half hour. The inbound aircraft is already in the air — it left Seattle a half hour late — so I like my odds that this is the extent of the delay.
When I left my house less than an hour ago, the Delta app said the Sky Club was “extremely busy.” I got myself mentally prepared to wait in line or find a restaurant. By the time I arrived, the status was “not busy.” I walked right in.
