At this juncture I should mention that, for me, air travel is always like being put on a conveyer belt on an assembly line. You get "worked on" and "assembled" by a great many "machines". None of these machines has a name. None of these machines goes home at night or even has a home or a family to consider. I know this because no matter what time of the day or night I happen to fly the machines and the assembly line are still in operation. So these machines are of little concern to me. They are there for one purpose: to get me to the end of the assembly line and cause as little discomfort to my affluence as possible. At the end of my trip down the assembly line there will be a nice warm bed and wide-screen TV in the hotel which itself is populated by so many more of these convenience makers who also exist merely for the whim of my pleasure.
Anyway, I glanced up to see this particular machine walking down the aisle. She was struggling to stay upright in the turbulence of our decent into Denver and yet I noticed she had a smile on her face and was saying "thank you" to every affluent American that unthinkingly handed her their garbage. I'm sure none of them thanked her. As I handed her my own stash of stuff I happened to notice her name badge: "A. Person". No joke. "A. Person" is what it said.
I will never view the travel experience the same way again. Thank you, Lord, for your gentle rebuke.