The good, the bad and the ugly of a D.C. internship
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Five in the morning is too early to fly, especially if you’ve spent most of the night before waking up and thinking about the possibilities of living in Washington, D.C.
But there I was, heaving my carry-on’s down the crowded aisle of the plane. I found my seat too soon, for I had already noticed the two middle aged men wearing vacant expressions and seating on each side of it. I dawdled on, looking around hoping that was not my seat, but of course it was. I fought one of my bags into the compartment above, and was not surprised to see that none of my seat companions offered a hand, but I excused their lack of amiability and slithered into my seat. As I sat down I had to fight my gag reflexes, for the worst, smelliest, grossest smell of beer, sweat and after-shave invaded my nostrils.