Delay Flight Quotes

I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. How could a man (or a woman) do something so self-destructive, knowing that they’re hurting not only themselves, but the people they love? It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It’s so simple, really. But as so often happens with me, my arrogance kept me from seeing the truth of the matter. I see it now though. Every day, I tell myself it will be the last. Every night, as I’m falling asleep in his bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I’ll book a flight to Paris, or Hawaii, or maybe New York. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it’s not here. I need to get away from Phoenix—away from him—before this goes even one step further. And then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind. This cannot end well. That’s the crux of the matter, Sweets. I’ve been down this road before—you know I have—and there’s only heartache at the end. There’s no happy ending waiting for me like there was for you and Matt. If I stay here with him, I will become restless and angry. It’s happening already, and I cannot stop it. I’m becoming bitter and terribly resentful. Before long, I will be intolerable, and eventually, he’ll leave me. But if I do what I have to do, what my very nature compels me to do, and move on, the end is no better. One way or another, he’ll be gone. Is it not wiser to end it now, Sweets, before it gets to that point? Is it not better to accept that this happiness I have is destined to self-destruct? Tomorrow I will leave. Tomorrow I will stop delaying the inevitable. Tomorrow I will quit lying to myself, and to him. Tomorrow. What about today, you ask? Today it’s already too late. He’ll be home soon, and I have dinner on the stove, and wine chilling in the fridge. And he will smile at me when he comes through the door, and I will pretend like this fragile, dangerous thing we have created between us can last forever. Just one last time, Sweets. Just one last fix. That’s all I need. And that is why I now understand addiction.

Before the first streaks of light at dawn on December 7, 275 miles north of Oahu, the six (Japanese) carriers of the Striking Force turned into the southeast wind. Pounding into heavy swells at high speed, the carriers pitched severely with thunderous impact. The wind, surging seas, and roar of warming aircraft engines made communications possible only by hand signals and handheld signal lamps. Salt spray reached the high flight decks, and Commander Fuchida, the group leader, was very concerned about the conditions for launching planes. If this had been a training exercise the launch might have been delayed until conditions improved. However, this was not an exercise, and there would be no delay.

No one except your husband knows of the cautiousness at the heart of your life. Your adulthood has been a progressive retreat from curiosity and wonder, an endless series of delays and procrastinations. You wanted to be so much, once, but life kept on getting in the way... You settled. Shunned creativity, flight, risk, never had the courage to give a dream, any dream, a go.

The rosy hearth, the lamplight's narrow beam, The meditation that is rather dream, With looks that lose themselves in cherished looks; The hour of steaming tea and banished books; The sweetness of the evening at an end, The dear fatigue, and right to rest attained, And worshipped expectation of the night,— Oh, all these things, in unrelenting flight, My dream pursues through all the vain delays, Impatient of the weeks, mad at the days!

I don't need to be babied. I've taken care of myself for a long time." "You need all the babying you can get, angel. And something's bothering you. Are you going to tell me what's going on?" "Go to hell." She slammed down the phone. She tightened her chin and her resolve. "I didn't expect to see you so soon." "I was told to go to hell. My connecting flight was delayed so I thought I'd drop in.

Gate C22 At gate C22 in the Portland airport a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed a woman arriving from Orange County. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking, the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other like he’d just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island, like she’d been released at last from ICU, snapped out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing. Neither of them was young. His beard was gray. She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish kisses like the ocean in the early morning, the way it gathers and swells, sucking each rock under, swallowing it again and again. We were all watching– passengers waiting for the delayed flight to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots, the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling sunglasses. We couldn’t look away. We could taste the kisses crushed in our mouths. But the best part was his face. When he drew back and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost as though he were a mother still open from giving birth, as your mother must have looked at you, no matter what happened after–if she beat you or left you or you’re lonely now–you once lay there, the vernix not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth. The whole wing of the airport hushed, all of us trying to slip into that woman’s middle-aged body, her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses, little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.

Trust has to be absolute. If you trust as per convenience, it's not trust at all. For example, If your flight gets delayed, don't call it your bad luck. Trust that it's for your own good.

Sure, some movies don’t work. Some fail in their intent. But anyone who says they hated a movie is treating a voluntarily shared human experience like a bad Red-Eye out of LAX. The departure is delayed for hours, there’s turbulence that scares even the flight attendants, the guy across from you vomits, they can’t serve any food and the booze runs out, you’re seated next to twin babies with the colic, and you land too late for your meeting in the city. You can hate that. But hating a movie misses the damn point. Would you say you hated the seventh birthday party of your girlfriend’s niece or a ball game that went eleven innings and ended 1–0? You hate cake and extra baseball for your money? Hate should be saved for fascism and steamed broccoli that’s gone cold.

Son of a bitch!” “What is it?” asked Coleman. “Our flight’s delayed!” “But only fifteen minutes,” said Coleman. “I’ve seen this movie before. ‘Fifteen minutes’ is code for ‘at least three to five hours.’ They know the plane’s stuck in Pittsburgh, where they wrestled another drunk pilot to the runway, but they don’t want an open passenger revolt, so they incrementally string us along fifteen minutes at a time, until you’re across the international date line.” Serge paced in front of the departure screen. Fifteen minutes later, Serge grabbed Coleman and pointed. “Sweet Jesus! They just added another fifteen minutes!

When I read things like, “The foundations of capitalism are shattering,” I’m like, maybe we need some time where we’re walking around with a donkey with pots clanging on the sides. . . . ’Cause now we live in an amazing world, and it’s wasted on the crappiest generation of spoiled idiots. . . . Flying is the worst one, because people come back from flights, and they tell you their story. . . . They’re like, “It was the worst day of my life. . . . We get on the plane and they made us sit there on the runway for forty minutes.” . . . Oh really, then what happened next? Did you fly through the air, incredibly, like a bird? Did you soar into the clouds, impossibly? Did you partake in the miracle of human flight, and then land softly on giant tires that you couldn’t even conceive how they fuckin’ put air in them? . . . You’re sitting in a chair in the sky. You’re like a Greek myth right now! . . . People say there’s delays? . . . Air travel’s too slow? New York to California in five hours. That used to take thirty years! And a bunch of you would die on the way there, and you’d get shot in the neck with an arrow, and the other passengers would just bury you and put a stick there with your hat on it and keep walking. . . . The Wright Brothers would kick us all in the [crotch] if they knew.1

The flight was delayed two hours. I had never been unaccompanied in the international terminal before, and wandered around for a while reading my horoscope in magazines and looking in all the shops. Brookstone was selling a “quiet hair dryer” that let you hold a phone conversation while blow-drying your hair, without the other person knowing.

Now, what I am, and what I was, I know; I see the seasons in procession go With still increasing speed; while things to come, Unknown, unthought, amid the growing gloom Of long futurity, perplex my soul, While life is posting to its final goal. Mine is the crime, who ought with clearer light To watch the winged years’ incessant flight; And not to slumber on in dull delay

Which one's in the main theater?" "I don't know. I just work here part-time to pay for my organic breathing lessons." "Do you have any dice?" I asked, and then realized I was going about this all wrong. This was quantum theory not Newtonian. It didn't matter which theater I chose or which seat I sat down in. This was a delayed-choice experiment and David was already in flight.

The single most important practice in Stoic philosophy is differentiating between what we can change and what we can’t. What we have influence over and what we do not. A flight is delayed because of weather—no amount of yelling at an airline representative will end a storm. No amount of wishing will make you taller or shorter or born in a different country. No matter how hard you try, you can’t make someone like you.

But as a young man in love trembles and thrills, not daring to utter what he dreams of by night, and looks about fearfully, seeking help or the possibility of delay and flight, when the desired moment comes and he stands alone with her, so now Rostov, having attained what he desired more than anything in the world, did not know how to approach the sovereign and presented thousands of considerations to himself for why it was unsuitable, improper, and impossible.

Been in a lot of time zones. Been on a lot of planes. Had a lot of complimentary honey-roasted peanuts whapped onto my tray table by hostile flight attendants. “Would you care for some peanuts, sir?” WHAP. Like that. The flight attendants hate us passengers, because we’re surly to them because our flight is delayed. Our flight is always delayed. The Russians will never be able to get their missiles through the dense protective layer of delayed flights circling over the United States in complex, puke-inducing holding patterns.

Delay The warmth Of the smooth rocks In the sun Ripples On the surface Of pools in the surf And on the beach The rush Of colour In every destination The uninterrupted flight plan Vanishing acts Flashbacks and passages Rare appearances of family The timeless dance The swift motion Of the perfect match Of leaves against grass Chameleon-like and provocative This season is festive Uncomplicated Filled with high hopes A portrait of a family My demands are small Summer is when you'll be home From school More grown up than before.

The single most important practice in Stoic philosophy is differentiating between what we can change and what we can’t. What we have influence over and what we do not. A flight is delayed because of weather—no amount of yelling at an airline representative will end a storm. No amount of wishing will make you taller or shorter or born in a different country. No matter how hard you try, you can’t make someone like you. And on top of that, time spent hurling yourself at these immovable objects is time not spent on the things we can change.

at eight A.M. We landed in Los Angeles five hours later, but our connecting flight was delayed for four hours. Well, L.A. time is two hours later than Hawaii time, so it was dinner hour when we boarded the next plane for another five-hour flight that actually put us in New York eight hours later, because of the three-hour time change. Then, after waiting forty-five minutes for our luggage, we took an hour-and-a-half limo ride from New York to Stoneybrook, Connecticut. Got all that? Okay, for the grand prize, what time was it when we walked

But in the highest alarm—a life-and-death situation—the fight/flight/freeze system shuts down your rational mind. This prevents you from thinking too much. Why? Because thinking would delay quick action to get you out of harm’s way. The problem with post-traumatic stress is that it doesn’t take much to kick your fight/flight/freeze system into alarm mode. And false alarms are common. The higher the level of false alarm, the less your rational mind is able to do its job. This makes it difficult to function well in your life after trauma. For

The plane that had taken off from Baltimore was caught in bad weather, which meant the Derridas missed their connection at Boston. Derrida found this delay and the whole chaotic journey a real trial. On the flight the following day, he spent the whole time tense and hunched up, clenching his fists tightly. And when Marguerite coaxed him to relax, he replied, furiously: ‘Don’t you realize that I’m keeping the plane in the air by the sole force of my will?’ He was traumatized for a long time, and for several years he refused to get back into a plane.

Another day. That's all I'm asking. Just one more day. I can't think beyond that. Beyond that things get complicated. Flights get delayed. Parents go ballistic. But one more day. One more day I can swing with minimal hassle, without upsetting anyone but Melanie. Who will understand. Eventually. Part of me knows one more day won't do anything except postpone the heartbreak. But another part of me believes differently. We are born in one day. We die in one day. We can change in one day. And we can fall in love in one day. Anything can happen in just one day.

IN MEMORIAM: FLIGHT 752 I try to envisage the passengers seated in neat rows. Everyone knows the real risk is at take-off and landing, but after an hour delay, their plane was soaring. Relieved, they whispered prayers, dreaming of families and friends at arrival gates clutching coffee cups and bouquets. I like to think it was calm, the plane blanketed by night’s caress. Cellphones put away, the cabin lights dimmed, babies cooing in cots, and refreshments on their way. 176 hearts beating in one narrow womb. Closer to the heavens, I know their journey was short— earth angels for a while who were returning home.

LISBON, HARRIMAN FACED another delay. The KLM flight to Bristol, England, was in high demand, and passengers with the most senior official rank, like Ambassador Biddle, took priority. The delay lasted three days. Harriman did not suffer, however. He stayed at the Hotel Palácio, in Estoril, on the Portuguese Riviera, known both for its luxury and for being a cradle of espionage. Here, in fact, he met briefly with Colonel Donovan, who was now, after his Sunday at Chequers, on his way back to Washington, where he would soon become head of America’s top wartime spy agency, the Office of Strategic Services. Ever striving for efficiency, Harriman decided to take advantage of the delay by having

A typical Virgin airline employee is the sort of person who will joke with passengers and smile, not just nod their head and say: ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.’ I shared a story about one occasion when we had a short delay before a Virgin flight and people had to queue up at the gate. One of the passengers jumped the queue and marched up to the desk. Our team member very politely asked him to get back into the queue. He turned on her and said: ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ So she picked up the intercom and announced: ‘I have a young man at gate 23, who seems to be lost – he doesn’t know who he is.’ The other passengers roared with laughter. ‘Fuck you!’ shouted the self-important man. She kept a straight face and replied: ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to get in line for that too, sir!

Before I knew anything about church, I'd assumed that most Christians spoke the same language, shared a sense of fellowship, and beyond minor differences had a faith in common that could transcend political boundaries. But if I had imagined that, initiated as a Christian, I was going to achieve some kind of easy bond with other believers, that fantasy was soon shot. Just a few months after I began going to St. Gregory's, I found myself at a restaurant counter in the Denver airport, waiting for a flight home from a reporting trip. A woman—perhaps noticing the silver crucifix I had recently and self-consciously started to wear around my neck—caught my eye and smiled as she took the stool next to me. She had short blond hair and a cross of her own, and was wearing some kind of sexless denim jumper that reeked of piety. I smiled back, and we exchanged small talk about the weather and flight delays, and then she asked me what I was reading. I showed her the little volume of psalms that I'd borrowed from Rick Fabian. “From my church,” I said proudly. “What church is that?” the woman asked. She leaned forward, in a friendly way. “Saint Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church, in San Francisco,” I said, as her face rearranged itself, froze, and closed. It may have been the “San Francisco,” I realized later, but the city's name was a reasonable stand-in, by that point, for everything conservative Christians had come to hate about the Episcopal Church as a whole: homosexuality; wealth; feminism; and morally relativist, decadent, rudderless liberalism. The church I'd unknowingly landed in turned out to be a scandal, a dirty joke at airport restaurants, a sign—in fact, thank God, a sure bet—that I was going to eat with sinners.

Take the New York–based Lemonade, arguably the best funded of today’s crowdsurance startups. Via an app, Lemonade brings together small groups of policyholders who pay premiums into a central “claim pool.” Artificial intelligence does the rest. The entire experience is mobile, simple, and fast. Ninety seconds to get insured, three minutes to get a claim paid, and zero paperwork. Adding more technology to this arrangement, companies like the Swiss firm Etherisc sell “bespoke insurance products” on the Ethereum blockchain. Because smart contracts remove the need for employees, paperwork, and all the rest, all sorts of new insurance products are being created. Etherisc’s first offering is something not covered by traditional insurers: flight delays and cancellations. Individuals sign up via credit card, and if their plane is more than forty-five minutes late, they’re paid instantly, automatically, and without the need for any paperwork.

It may seem paradoxical to claim that stress, a physiological mechanism vital to life, is a cause of illness. To resolve this apparent contradiction, we must differentiate between acute stress and chronic stress. Acute stress is the immediate, short-term body response to threat. Chronic stress is activation of the stress mechanisms over long periods of time when a person is exposed to stressors that cannot be escaped either because she does not recognize them or because she has no control over them. Discharges of nervous system, hormonal output and immune changes constitute the flight-or-fight reactions that help us survive immediate danger. These biological responses are adaptive in the emergencies for which nature designed them. But the same stress responses, triggered chronically and without resolution, produce harm and even permanent damage. Chronically high cortisol levels destroy tissue. Chronically elevated adrenalin levels raise the blood pressure and damage the heart. There is extensive documentation of the inhibiting effect of chronic stress on the immune system. In one study, the activity of immune cells called natural killer (NK) cells were compared in two groups: spousal caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s disease, and age- and health-matched controls. NK cells are front-line troops in the fight against infections and against cancer, having the capacity to attack invading micro-organisms and to destroy cells with malignant mutations. The NK cell functioning of the caregivers was significantly suppressed, even in those whose spouses had died as long as three years previously. The caregivers who reported lower levels of social support also showed the greatest depression in immune activity — just as the loneliest medical students had the most impaired immune systems under the stress of examinations. Another study of caregivers assessed the efficacy of immunization against influenza. In this study 80 per cent among the non-stressed control group developed immunity against the virus, but only 20 per cent of the Alzheimer caregivers were able to do so. The stress of unremitting caregiving inhibited the immune system and left people susceptible to influenza. Research has also shown stress-related delays in tissue repair. The wounds of Alzheimer caregivers took an average of nine days longer to heal than those of controls. Higher levels of stress cause higher cortisol output via the HPA axis, and cortisol inhibits the activity of the inflammatory cells involved in wound healing. Dental students had a wound deliberately inflicted on their hard palates while they were facing immunology exams and again during vacation. In all of them the wound healed more quickly in the summer. Under stress, their white blood cells produced less of a substance essential to healing. The oft-observed relationship between stress, impaired immunity and illness has given rise to the concept of “diseases of adaptation,” a phrase of Hans Selye’s. The flight-or-fight response, it is argued, was indispensable in an era when early human beings had to confront a natural world of predators and other dangers. In civilized society, however, the flight-fight reaction is triggered in situations where it is neither necessary nor helpful, since we no longer face the same mortal threats to existence. The body’s physiological stress mechanisms are often triggered inappropriately, leading to disease. There is another way to look at it. The flight-or-fight alarm reaction exists today for the same purpose evolution originally assigned to it: to enable us to survive. What has happened is that we have lost touch with the gut feelings designed to be our warning system. The body mounts a stress response, but the mind is unaware of the threat. We keep ourselves in physiologically stressful situations, with only a dim awareness of distress or no awareness at all.

Try as she might, Annabelle could think of no subtle way to ask him. After grappling silently with a variety of phrases, she finally settled for a blunt question. “Were you responsible for the boots?” His expression gave nothing away. “Boots? I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning, Miss Peyton. Are you speaking in metaphor, or are we talking about actual footwear?” “Ankle boots,” Annabelle said, staring at him with open suspicion. “A new pair that was left inside the door of my room yesterday.” “Delighted as I am to discuss any part of your wardrobe, Miss Peyton, I’m afraid I know nothing about a pair of boots. However, I am relieved that you have managed to acquire some. Unless, of course, you wished to continue acting as a strolling buffet to the wildlife of Hampshire.” Annabelle regarded him for a long moment. Despite his denial, there was something lurking behind his neutral facade…some playful spark in his eyes…“Then you deny having given the boots to me?” “Most emphatically I deny it.” “But I wonder…if some one wished to have a pair of boots made up for a lady without her knowledge…how would he be able to learn the precise size of her feet?” “That would be a relatively simple task…” he mused. “I imagine that some enterprising person would simply ask a housemaid to trace the soles of the lady’s discarded slippers. Then he could take the pattern to the local cobbler. And make it worth the cobbler’s while to delay his other work in favor of crafting the new shoes immediately.” “That is quite a lot of trouble for someone to go through,” Annabelle murmured. Hunt’s gaze was lit with sudden mischief. “Rather less trouble than having to haul an injured woman up three flights of stairs every time she goes out walking in her slippers.” Annabelle realized that he would never admit to giving her the boots—which would allow her to keep them, but would also ensure that she would never be able to thank him. And she knew he had—she could see it in his face.

When Oliver called time a few moments later, she’d beaten them all. But she’d beaten Mr. Pinter by only one bird. “It appears, Lady Celia, that you’ve won a new rifle,” the duke said graciously. “No,” she answered. They all stared at her. “It doesn’t seem sporting to win a challenge only because one of my opponents had a faulty firearm. Which we provided to him, by the way.” “Don’t worry,” Mr. Pinter drawled. “I won’t hold the fault firearm against you and your brothers.” “That’s not the point. This should be fair, and it isn’t.” “Then we’ll move forward,” Oliver said, “and let the servants flush the grouse again. Pinter can take one more shot. That’s probably all that the misfire delayed him by. If he misses, then you’ve won squarely. If he hits his target then it’s a tie, and we’ll decide a tie breaker.” “That seems fair.” She glanced over at Mr. Pinter. “What do you say, sir?” “Whatever my lady wishes.” His eyes met hers in a heated glance. She had the unsettling feeling that he referred to more than just the shooting. “Well, then,” she said lightly. “Let’s get on with it.” The beaters headed forward to flush the grouse, but either because of where the grouse had last settled or because of the beaters’ position, the birds rose farther away than was practical. “Damn it all,” Gabe uttered. “He won’t make a shot from here.” “You can ignore this one, and we’ll have them flushed again,” Celia said. But Mr. Pinter raised his gun to follow their flight. With a flash and the repugnant smell of black powder igniting, the gun fired and white smoke filled the air. She saw a bird fall. No, not one bird. He’d hit two birds with an impossible shot. Her breath lodged in her throat. She’d hit two with one shot a few times, due to how they clustered and how well the birdshot scattered, but to do it at such a distance… She glanced at him, astonished. No one had ever beaten her-and certainly not with such an amazing shot. Mr. Pinter gazed at her steadily as he handed off the gun to a servant. “It appears that I’ve won, my lady.” Her mouth went dry. “It does indeed.” Gabe hooted pleased at having escaped buying her a rifle. The duke and the viscount scowled, while Devonmont just looked amused as usual. All of that fell away as Mr. Pinter’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Well done, Pinter,” Oliver said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You obviously more than earned a kiss.” For a moment, raw hunger flickered in his eyes. Then it was as if a veil descended over his face, for his features turned blank. He walked up to her, bent his head… And kissed her on the forehead. Hot color flooded her cheeks. How dared he kiss her last night as if she were a woman, and then treat her like a child in front of her suitors! Or worse, a woman beneath his notice! “Thank heavens that’s done,” she said loftily, trying to retain some dignity. The men all laughed-except Mr. Pinter, who watched her with a shuttered expression. As the other gentleman crowded round to congratulate him on his fine shot, she plotted. She would make him answer for every remark, every embarrassment of this day, as soon as she had the chance to get him alone. Because no man made a fool of her and got away with it.

Similarly, the computers used to run the software on the ground for the mission were borrowed from a previous mission. These machines were so out of date that Bowman had to shop on eBay to find replacement parts to get the machines working. As systems have gone obsolete, JPL no longer uses the software, but Bowman told me that the people on her team continue to use software built by JPL in the 1990s, because they are familiar with it. She said, “Instead of upgrading to the next thing we decided that it was working just fine for us and we would stay on the platform.” They have developed so much over such a long period of time with the old software that they don’t want to switch to a newer system. They must adapt to using these outdated systems for the latest scientific work. Working within these constraints may seem limiting. However, building tools with specific constraints—from outdated technologies and low bitrate radio antennas—can enlighten us. For example, as scientists started to explore what they could learn from the wait times while communicating with deep space probes, they discovered that the time lag was extraordinarily useful information. Wait times, they realized, constitute an essential component for locating a probe in space, calculating its trajectory, and accurately locating a target like Pluto in space. There is no GPS for spacecraft (they aren’t on the globe, after all), so scientists had to find a way to locate the spacecraft in the vast expanse. Before 1960, the location of planets and objects in deep space was established through astronomical observation, placing an object like Pluto against a background of stars to determine its position.15 In 1961, an experiment at the Goldstone Deep Space Communications Complex in California used radar to more accurately define an “astronomical unit” and help measure distances in space much more accurately.16 NASA used this new data as part of creating the trajectories for missions in the following years. Using the data from radio signals across a wide range of missions over the decades, the Deep Space Network maintained an ongoing database that helped further refine the definition of an astronomical unit—a kind of longitudinal study of space distances that now allows missions like New Horizons to create accurate flight trajectories. The Deep Space Network continued to find inventive ways of using the time lag of radio waves to locate objects in space, ultimately finding that certain ways of waiting for a downlink signal from the spacecraft were less accurate than others. It turned to using the antennas from multiple locations, such as Goldstone in California and the antennas in Canberra, Australia, or Madrid, Spain, to time how long the signal took to hit these different locations on Earth. The time it takes to receive these signals from the spacecraft works as a way to locate the probes as they are journeying to their destination. Latency—or the different time lag of receiving radio signals on different locations of Earth—is the key way that deep space objects are located as they journey through space. This discovery was made possible during the wait times for communicating with these craft alongside the decades of data gathered from each space mission. Without the constraint of waiting, the notion of using time as a locating feature wouldn’t have been possible.

As their figures recede, it strikes Filsan as ironic that they had delayed fleeing so they could take as many of their possessions as possible, but now those very possessions prevent their flight.

Mr. Bhattacharji pointed out that after the terror attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, all flights in the United States were grounded for days. That radical measure had an unexpected consequence: it delayed the flu season by two weeks. It was the only example he could point to where travel restrictions actually slowed down the spread of a disease.

Two hours I’ve been searching for you boys. Having fun?” The captain was irked, but that didn’t forestall Galen. “Yes, sir,” he declared, with an impudent grin. Cannan almost rolled his eyes, then he dropped his volume. “The manor house, half an hour. Understood?” Steldor and Galen nodded, then Cannan’s eyes fell on me. “Shaselle, you should go back to the faire,” he decreed, a warning underlying his tone. I knew I should obey, and I certainly knew Cannan wasn’t likely to give me permission to remain with Steldor and Galen. Still, something was up, and I wanted to be a part of it. I stayed put, peering sheepishly up at him. “Shaselle,” he prompted. “I’d like to come,” I murmured, fearful of his reaction. “I’ll stay out of the way and won’t cause any trouble.” The captain crossed his arms. “No, there is too much at risk.” “Uncle, please! I may be able to help. Perhaps messages need to be delivered. You might all be under surveillance, but no one would be watching me.” “She already knows where we’re meeting,” Steldor pointed out, an argument that had not yet come to me. “So there’s not much point in trying to keep her away,” Galen finished, looking at me with understanding in his eyes. He had heard my confession about Saadi and probably wanted to show that he still trusted me. Cannan glared at his son by blood and his son by familiarity and responsibility. To my astonishment, he relented. “She can come, but one of you takes her when we split up. I don’t want her getting lost.” I bounced on the balls of my feet, exhilarated by the captain’s decision, then froze when his stern eyes fell on me. He did not see this as cause for celebration. “Half an hour,” he grumbled in reminder, walking away. I went with Steldor, and we surreptitiously departed the festival grounds, heading up the hillside and stopping a few times to talk with folks. I worried we would be late, but my cousin was not bothered. “Trust me, stealth is much more important here than punctuality,” he told me with a smirk. When the crowd began to thin, my heartbeat calmed, for we were making better progress. We passed through the Market District only to be slowed once more when we reached the thoroughfare. “We are late by now,” I harassed. “My father will either assume we’re dead or that I’m up to my usual tricks. If I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be.” His eyes glinted wickedly, suggesting he enjoyed needling his father, perhaps even to the same extent he enjoyed his popularity. I shrugged, keeping my silence the rest of the trek to Cannan’s manor house, where Steldor had grown up. He rapped four times on the door and we were ushered inside by Galen, who locked the door before heading through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs into a cellar. Only a single torch was lit in the small, clammy space, making it difficult to distinguish the faces of the men who had gathered. “Delayed?” Cannan asked with a touch of sarcasm. “Come now, Father. I had baggage,” Steldor shot back, and I shoved him, not appreciating his gibe.

THE VARIOUS GAINS OF FLIGHT DELAY DAMAGES Travelling byair is one of the handiest means to get from one point to another. It's quick, safe, and hassle-free. Obviously, hassle-free is a subjective term as some folks find all the safety precautions cumbersome. Since there are much fewer plane accidents when compared with automobile accidents however, it's a good deal better mathematically talking. Naturally, travel issues are not merely limited to injuries and crashes; occasionally, the ones that are most problematic are the small things that eventually become larger. Having the flight postponed for 5 - 10 minutes does not seem much to most folks. However, for people who will be catching a connecting flight after, this really is an extremely large difficulty. They need to run across the next airport simply to make it in time or they will need to get it rescheduled and watch for the next available flight. Either way, it's a very big hassle and it all came from a 5 minute delay. What You Can Get That is why you should be aware of the many benefits that you can get. Flight delay compensation isn't a simple thing that airlines give just to keep customers satisfied; the law requires to give damages for faulty service as mandated them. Different areas have different laws regarding this but it usually means that if your flight got delayed, the airline must help you during that time. If, for example, you may end up late to your connecting flight, then you can certainly ask aid from the airline to assist you look for an accessible connecting flight, have it reserved, and even request financial compensation as you need to wait for the brand new boarding time if it's a few hours more. Typically, you can demand help for the amount of money you are going to be spending simply because your flight was delayed. This can happen whether the flight was delayed for a very long time due to technical issues. That those can get somewhere to sleep in, some airports will open up the VIP lounge. Also, they are going to be given free food and drinks especially if they must stay for more than one night. Inclusions and Exceptions Flight delay settlement is all about getting compensated for hassle and all the trouble that an undue delay has brought on. Delays caused by neglect or some other reason which was a result of the airline can be deemed as such. This implies that if they couldn't have prevented the issue no matter what, you won't be able to seek damages. For example, if the weather suddenly took a turn for the worse and the whole airport was locked down and no airplanes are permitted to fly, then this is a problem that they couldn't avert. It would not be safe to fly with such conditions and no one can do anything about it. Naturally, you can still seek assistance but remember that they have no obligation to do so and you've got no right to demand money as reimbursement for the delay. In the end, the biggest difference between force of nature accidents and those due to negligence is that you can ask for aid but they're just required to do so during the latter. They have to give money for the hassle to you as well if it was their fault.

Got it in two. It would’ve been funny if you’d got it straight away, honest.’ ’Sure. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m whacked right now . . .’ Milly’s heart sank. He was going to cry off. ’. . . what with the flight, the delay and some other stuff, so I’m not too quick on the uptake. You might have to nod when you make a joke.’ Milly nodded. She was so relieved she could have hugged him. ‘That wasn’t a joke. That nod, I mean. That was just me agreeing.’ Mitch laughed. ‘I’m slow, but not that slow,’ he said.

Fandom takes care of my cat when I go on vacation. I sit in the waiting room to take fandom home after wisdom teeth removals. Fandom comes to get me at LAX in the middle of the night when my flight is delayed for eight hours and my luggage has been sent to Australia by mistake. I bring Liquid Plummer to fandom when its toilet explodes. Fandom brings me ginger cookies and sits with me on my stoop when I stupidly lock myself out of my apartment. Fandom, friendom, and familydom all run on a gradient line in my brain.

as a youth in love trembles and turns faint and dares not utter what he has spent nights in dreaming of, and looks about in terror, seeking aid or a chance of delay or flight, when the moment he has longed for comes and he stands alone at her side, so Rostov, now when he was attaining what he had longed for beyond everything in the world, did not know how to approach the Emperor, and thousands of reasons why it was unsuitable, unseemly, and impossible came into his mind.

Cloud, be my messenger. Soak up the pool outside my window and carry it over fences and forests to the sorrowful house where my loved one waits. You will recognize it by the candle burning in the window. Do not delay! Those other puddles will muddy the message, keep you from getting there fast. Carry, cloud, my love exclusively, over the millions of lifeless clouds, under a guiding invisible hand. from section VI of “Parables of Flight

The radio played, barely audible, as the newsreader continued unperturbed. ‘…Cross border delays are expected to increase even more from this Saturday the ninth of June, as major road works commence on the La Linea approach roads…’ As she raised a glass of orange juice to her lips, a blood-curdling scream rang out from deep within the house. A blue rock thrush, momentarily perched on the terrace walls, took flight as the glass of orange fell from the the

The organization of high-tempo air operations from carriers remains an extremely challenging proposition even today, but in June 1942, the Japanese were world leaders in this field. Their fleet carriers would typically hold about 90 aircraft, confined into a very tight space. There were two hangar decks, with lifts connecting them to the flight deck above. Japanese ground crews were very well trained, with the result that they could turn around aircraft much faster than their British or American counterparts. Nonetheless, these were crowded ships, and they were already coming under attack from the Midway-based American aircraft. Furthermore, in addition to switching armament for Nagumo’s reserve bomber force, the crews were maintaining a rotating force of covering fighters. There were always Zeros on deck waiting to take off, being refuelled, or just having landed. Hoisting heavy torpedoes into the bomb bays of the Kates was also a very skilled operation that only specialist torpedo armorers were able to undertake. In short, this was a recipe for delay and confusion, even given the superb quality of the Japanese ground crew, and as Nagumo changed his mind twice in the span of less than an hour, the issues the Japanese faced on the carriers were exacerbated. 

O’Neill and his army marched south from Ulster to meet the enemy while his ally Red Hugh O’Donnell marched in from the west. But once the Irish armies were in place, O’Neill and O’Donnell began arguing as to which of them should begin the attack. This delay proved fatal as the agreed upon hour of rendezvous with the Spaniards passed, and the window of opportunity for an Irish victory slammed shut. The Battle of Kinsale lasted three months, and in the end O’Neill was unable to defeat Mountjoy’s siege lines. Finally the Spanish troops surrendered to the English and sailed home. Thousands of Irish rebels died in the fighting or, taken prisoner, were hung. Hugh O’Neill was forced to submit to the English conquerors in a series of humiliating ceremonies, first on his knees to Mountjoy, then to the Lord Deputy and the Irish Privy Council. It was only after he’d put his submission in writing, renouncing his title of “The O’Neill and his allegiance to Spain, as well as protesting loyalty to the Crown, was he told that Elizabeth had died six days before. Mountjoy had tricked him. It was said that O’Neill wept openly and copiously for both his personal defeat and the ruination of the “Irish cause.” The rebel leader retreated to Ulster, and by the good graces of the new king of England, was pardoned once again, and his lands restored to him. He took up residency in his luxurious home, but spurred by a series of dangerous events and the realization that no hope was left for a free Ireland, O’Neill and a handful of Irish overlords and their families sailed from their homeland in 1607. The tragic “Flight of the Earls” ended the most tumultuous century in Ireland’s history. Tyrone,

The flight is delayed by five hours. Snowstorm,’ she says. I hear myself producing a weak ‘Fl…’ Runner flicks his gaze toward me. He’s obviously enjoying this. ‘We are flying to Taiwan. You are pale.’ ‘Of course I’m pale!’ I bark. ‘The fastest I’d travelled before I met you was with a donkey cart!’ I

Using the MVS model described in Part 2, I worked on a project for a global airline company to help them with their flight delay issues.

At Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam, his own favorite, Lance would pray for our connecting flights to be delayed so that he could have even longer in the arcade, shooting down monsters and dragons with no regard for jet lag. How wonderful it is to have your monsters and dragons on a screen in front of you, to be destroyed by the press of a button, and not inside your heart as mine are, hammering away at your soul.

If your pilot was supposed to land at 10pm and instead landed at 12am and only had the minimum amount of rest required by law before the next flight, then the flight will have to be delayed for two hours to ensure that the pilot is legally rested.

The bird let loose in eastern skies, When hastening fondly home, Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam; But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadows dim her way.

Since the characterizations herein are my own I should clarify these details absent a second’s further delay. Beginning at its newest beginning, with the matters of today – midday, in fact – with a scene punctuated by the appearance and subsequent felinious capture of the vermin given mention. More benignly put, these particular footsteps were taken by a timid, terrified, adolescent Norway rat who would shortly be christened Twitch. I shall focus forthwith upon those details which emerged moments later – subsequent to his short-lived escape from imminent annihilation by scurrying anew. This time beneath an oaken china cabinet. In an effort to avoid confiding any facts or details absent direct pertinence to the life-or-death matter at hand, I’ll reveal for the moment only that its precedent had been a similarly random appearance of a rather less fortunate rat 29 years ere and whose ill-fated tale remains snugly entangled within the roots of this one. Its tangible form began as a spontaneous act of nature that was observed by a 15-year-old dreamer and provoked a flight of fancy which led him to conceive of a grandiose idea that gestated until the man he would become tediously nurtured his evolving purpose into six centuries of historically faithful fables of human survival and struggle ‒ of growth and decay. To put it more tangibly yet ‒ he re-imagined the act of a hungry cat pursuing a frantic rat in the lower Manhattan alleyway in back of his childhood apartment, into an elaborate daydream of a cougar hunting a deer roughly a half-millennia ago. Then ‒ being a born writer ‒ he kicked back in his usual beige folding metal chair, causing its backrest to thud familiarly against the red and gray brick exterior wall behind him; lowered his forest green spiral notebook until it intersected the top front edge of a modest stack of drab-jacketed library books which rested upon his lap and began to transcribe the more fanciful images into a short story. In it, the cougar’s impending success was interrupted by a handful of natives who’d targeted his prey as their own. Having chosen a 15-year-old Lenape brave named Talli as its protagonist, he likewise conceived a fictional version of himself as the narrator ‒ leading to his eventual conception of peering through the lens of this and subsequent parallel visualizations as chronicled by the successive pens of 40 unique contemporary same-age narrators to detail the human evolution on the island wherein he’d grown up. On which millions-upon-millions of rats ‒ in near synchronicity with their hosts ‒ had likewise made their home…

Flights out of Omaha were canceled. With thirty thousand people who had come for the Berkshire weekend missing flights and wanting to leave as soon as possible, it looked as if we would be delayed at least two days. We held a family conference and within an hour Jeff had chartered a private jet for us. The next morning we took a ten-minute ride to the local airport and boarded in minutes—no wait, no lines, no luggage hassle, no TSA body scans and searches. We had two engines, two pilots, a flight attendant, and a good lunch. Seven-year-old Ava spoke for everyone when she declared she never wanted to fly any other way again. Whereas it took ten hours to reach Omaha from Newport Beach, California, including hours of delay in Dallas due to thunderstorms, we got home in two hours.

Augustine looked up at Joel as the train came to a halt. He grabbed her shoulders. “If we get to Facilis they can’t touch us.” “Which means they’re going to do everything within their power to stop us.” He shot a quick glance toward the compartment door. “Come on, we’re getting off. Let’s—” “Ladies and Gentlemen, to expedite our journey and limit your delay, we ask that you stay in your seats. Templin guards will be inspecting the cabins shortly. Thank you for your cooperation.” The two looked at one another as the overhead

Spirit Airlines Reservations Phone Number ☎️ 1.855.653.5006 Spirit Airlines Reservations Phone Number ☎️ 1.855.653.5006 it is important to get all the information to avoid any hassle while travelling. Unplanned travelling itself creates chaos in our life. The tension of packing things, visiting places, food, hotel bookings, etc. is endless. In this situation, you need someone with whom you can rely on for flight bookings. Therefore, we are here to provide all the relevant support to you at a single call on our toll-free number which is available on Spirit Airlines Reservations site. Our toll-free number is 24*7 available at your service. Here you will get 100% assurance of flying in comfort. Also, you will get all the desired information by just calling our Spirit Airlines Reservations Phone Number . The detailed information related to your onboard services, check-in timings, delays, baggage allowance, halts, etc. is being provided by our executives who are presented at Spirit Airlines Reservations Phone Number .

American Airlines Customer Service Number-+1-855-653-5006 American Airlines Customer Service Number We also have plans for all airports we regularly serve (including our designated diversion airports) to make reasonable efforts to share facilities and gates with other carriers in an emergency and during irregular operations such as extreme weather. Gates would be made available in accordance with established operational priorities (i.e. medical emergencies, maintenance concerns) and local gate compatibility constraints. If a gate is not available and deplaning is necessary, other equipment such as air stairs will be made available to deplane passengers. Unless otherwise noted, marketed international and/or codeshare flights (AA flight number operated by another carrier) follow their own tarmac delay contingency plan. This contingency plan is explicitly separate from and not a part of these carriers' contract of carriage.

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The gelding had a broad back, making for a comfortable ride. Yedan rode at a canter. Ahead, the hills thickened with scrub, and beyond was a forest of white trees, branches like twisted bones, leaves so dark as to be almost black. Just before them and running the length of the wooded fringe rose dolmens of grey granite, their edges grooved and faces pitted with cup-shaped, ground-out depressions. Each stone was massive, twice the height of a grown man, and crowding the foot of each one that he could see were skulls. He slowed his mount, reined in a half-dozen paces from the nearest standing stone. Sat motionless, flies buzzing round the horse’s flickering ears, and studied those grisly offerings. Cold judgement was never short of pilgrims. Alas, true justice had no reason to respect secrets, as those close-fisted pilgrims had clearly discovered. A final and fatal revelation. Minute popping sounds in the air announced the approach of dread power, as the buzzing flies ignited in mid-flight, black bodies bursting like acorns in a fire. The horse shied slightly, muscles growing taut beneath Yedan, and then snorted in sudden fear. ‘Hold,’ Yedan murmured, his voice calming the beast. Those of the royal line among the Shake possessed ancient knowledge, memories thick as blood. Tales of ancient foes, sworn enemies of the uncertain Shore. More perhaps than most, the Shake rulers understood that a thing could be both one and the other, or indeed neither. Sides possessed undersides and even those terms were suspect. Language itself stuttered in the face of such complexities, such rampant subtleties of nature. In this place, however, the blended flavours of compassion were anathema to the powers that ruled. Yet the lone figure that strode out from the forest was so unexpected that Yedan Derryg grunted as if he had been punched in the chest. ‘This realm is not yours,’ he said, fighting to control his horse. ‘This land is consecrated for adjudication,’ the Forkrul Assail said. ‘I am named Repose. Give me your name, seeker, that I may know you—’ ‘Before delivering judgement upon me?’ The tall, ungainly creature, naked and weaponless, cocked his head. ‘You are not alone. You and your followers have brought discord to this land. Do not delay me—you cannot evade what hides within you. I shall be your truth.’ ‘I am Yedan Derryg.’ The Forkrul Assail frowned. ‘This yields me no ingress—why is that? How is it you block me, mortal?’ ‘I will give you that answer,’ Yedan replied, slipping down from the horse. He drew his sword. Repose stared at him. ‘Your defiance is useless.’ Yedan advanced on him. ‘Is it? But, how can you know for certain? My name yields you no purchase upon my soul. Why is that?’ ‘Explain this, mortal.’ ‘My name is meaningless. It is my title that holds my truth. My title, and my blood.’ The Forkrul Assail shifted his stance, lifting his hands. ‘One way or another, I will know you, mortal.’ ‘Yes, you will.’ Repose attacked, his hands a blur. But those deadly weapons cut empty air, as Yedan was suddenly behind the Forkrul Assail, sword chopping into the back of the creature’s elongated legs, the iron edge cutting between each leg’s two hinged knees, severing the buried tendons—Repose toppled forward, arms flailing. Yedan chopped down a second time, cutting off the Assail’s left arm. Blue, thin blood sprayed on to the ground. ‘I am Shake,’ Yedan said, raising his sword once more. ‘I am the Watch.’ The sudden hiss from Repose was shortlived, as Yedan’s sword took off the top of the Forkrul Assail’s head.

Every time they delayed a scheduled launch, they faced widespread public criticism and threats to funding. Each time they celebrated a flight that made it into orbit, they were encouraging their engineers to focus on the fact that the launch resulted in a success rather than on the faulty processes that could jeopardize future launches. That left NASA rewarding luck and repeating problematic practices, failing to rethink what qualified as an acceptable risk. It wasn’t for a lack of ability. After all, these were rocket scientists.

I have only flown one trip with Frontier Airlines. Outbound they canceled my flights which stranded me in Denver when the final destination was Atlanta. I had to buy a United Airlines ticket to get to Atlanta. I was told I would receive a full refund, but that never happened (fraud?). I purchased the same return ticket again and had a 3-4 hour delay in Atlanta while they flew in a pilot from another city to fly the plane! Expect your personal item to be checked for size on most flights – you will pay more to take it onboard if it is too big. They are at the bottom of my choice of airline for flying now.

Christmas 2022 was a time where a million passengers suffered flight delays and cancellations.

Budget airlines often have serious customer service problems, overbooking of flights, rescheduling of passengers, lying about passenger refunds, delays and reliability issues.

In the United terminal in Chicago at five on a Friday afternoon The sky is breaking with rain and wind and all the flights Are delayed forever. We will never get to where we are going And there’s no way back to where we’ve been.

the smile she presented me with betrayed no frustration, no sense of victory or defeat, no sign of the miniature drama I’d just witnessed, and, most significantly, no invitation to share in camaraderie. It was as if the entire past had been wiped away and this moment, her smile, and her chipper “How can I help you?” might as well have been the big bang. I pulled the boarding pass from my pocket and asked about the flight. She glanced at it, typed into her terminal, its keys going clackety-clack, and as she read the screen she pursed her lips at what could not have been good news. “The delay is ongoing,” she said, “but they could clear it at any time.” I asked if she knew the cause. “Eyjafjallajökull,” she said with perfect facility. “It is acting up again. They say it won’t be as bad as April, but who can tell?” I was still trying to untangle the first word. “The volcano,” she said. Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of amusement, a perverse delight at the vicissitudes of travel, the things-which-cannot-be-changed, the fates assigned to us by the same gods who abandoned us long ago. It was the spark we see in the eyes of the patrolman shutting down the snowy pass, the local who tells you that you can’t get there from here, the mechanic who informs you that you’re not going anywhere today. She said she would be sure to make an announcement when she heard anything else. With that, our interaction was over. She reset herself for the person waiting behind me.

. . . .but now she was looking at me, unaware I had been turning her into my main character.

I wanted a reminder of you, of us, in print, even if it didn't last.

People don't stop underestimating you just because you ask them to

The same grace that transports us to heaven also gives us composure when our flights are delayed or the traffic is jammed up.

thunderstorm grounded flights into the city. Schumer delayed the CHIPS vote for a day as he waited for senators to return. That meant two of the momentous accomplishments in his career were crammed into a single afternoon. At lunchtime on July 27, the Senate passed CHIPS, with seventeen Republican votes. It passed because Schumer and Manchin, two of the biggest kibitzers on Capitol Hill, restrained themselves.

The rebellions started. In August 209 BC, in Henan, two hired labourers were in charge of delivering a chain gang of 900 convicts, but a rainstorm delayed their arrival. Knowing that in Qin lateness was punished by death, as was escape, they decided that ‘flight means death, plotting means death’ so ‘death for establishing a state is preferable’. After all, said one, ‘Are kings and nobles given their high status by birth?’ At the same time, a local sheriff named Liu Bang, the peasant from central China who had once seen the First Emperor in person, was leading another chain gang to Mount Li to work on the First Emperor’s tomb. A few prisoners escaped, which meant that Liu and his charges would be executed, so he liberated them all. More men joined his band when he killed the local magistrate.

Well, it seems like you’ve been handling the rough day pretty well,” he says. “I was also affected by the weather delays and missed my connecting flight. It seems like this flight is likely booked solid, but with what you said, maybe someone affected by the weather might miss this connection. Is there any possibility a seat will be open?” Listen to that riff: Label, tactical empathy, label. And only then a request.

I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” “I was told to go to hell. My connecting flight was delayed so I thought I’d drop in.

Monday night I had to go out of town, up to Boston for a quick meeting early Tuesday morning. My flight was delayed, and I was sitting in the airport reading the paper. Before Soraya, I started with the business section first. These days, I turned to Ask Ida, before catching up on the market watch. Between soap operas and now reading an advice column daily, I was fast becoming a pussy.

Fifteen minutes into the flight from Mankuwa City to Sukhpur city, the captain announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, one of our engines has failed.. There is nothing to worry about. Our flight will take an hour longer than scheduled, but we still have three engines left." Thirty minutes later the captain announced, "One more engine has failed and the flight will take an additional two hours. But don't worry ... we can fly just fine on two engines." An hour later the captain announced, "One more engine has failed and our arrival will be delayed another three hours.But don't worry ... we still have one engine left." A sardarji passenger turned to the man in the next seat and remarked, "If we lose one more engine, we'll be up here all day!

Consider some of the directives to see how unreasonable they were. The one issued on 21 December 1993, for instance, said that crew members could go on leave at any time. They would not have to give advance notice and, by implication, could walk out of a flight at the very last minute. This directive, when seen in the context of an earlier agreement, which said that a flight was not allowed to take off without a full crew complement, ensured that the unions had the power to ground a flight if their demands were not met or if they wanted to hold the management to ransom. All they had to do was ask one of their members to opt out of a flight just before take-off, which they did quite frequently, and the management would have to come scrambling to their doorstep. On several occasions, the in-flight service officers posted at the airport had to call me up in the dead of night to report that the crew complement rule was leading to a flight delay and I would have to speak to the union leaders for a waiver or convince an air-hostess who had been promoted to the officer grade—and was therefore not a member of the union—to fly instead.

The winter had been fairly normal as far as winters went in Juneau. There had been plenty of snow. There had been a few unusually cold days, and even a few mild ones. The airport had endured a normal number of days where it was forced to close because of fog. Flights had been rerouted, passengers upset, and plans delayed, but eventually everything returned to normal. Spring even came, perhaps a little earlier than usual.

Most people regularly experienced delayed flights and bad customer service, and most people didn’t bounce when they walked.

10 minutes is a short, manageable length of time. If you try to hold off any longer you may feel overwhelmed, deprived or unable to cope. Set your watch if you need to and simply avoid taking any action towards a binge urge until the 10 minutes have passed. Research by neuroscientists proves that even a 10-minute wait can drastically reduce the brain’s response to a craving. Binge urges are not constant. They ebb and flow in waves. By delaying 10 minutes you give yourself the opportunity to see if the urge will pass. This is especially true if the binge urge triggered your fight-or-flight response. It may take a good ten minutes (or longer) for you to start to feel normal again as your body needs time to flush out all the stress hormones that were activated.

But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter the thoughts he has dreamt of for nights, but looks around for help or a chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and he is alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he had longed for more than anything else in the world, did not know how to approach the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him why it would be inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so.