The Magic Of Flying
“Would Madame like some water?”
The flight attendant looked directly at me. With each Lilipudian-sized bottle of gin she served, she reminded me of more and more of Bewitched’s Aunt Clara.
I pulled out my earbud and scratched at my graying beard.
I’m not especially hung up on gender honorifics, but calling me “madame” was a bit of a surprise.