“A couple of minutes,” the officer said.

“Maybe three.”

“My connection in Atlanta doesn’t leave any cushion,” I said.

“Everybody’s got a tight connection today, ma’am,” he said, flipping the boarding pass over on his blotter.

Two young women in athletic wear stopped in the next lane to stare at the gold braid on my sleeves and my four rows of ribbons.

“Is she a general or something?” one of them whispered across the lane.

“No,” the other whispered back.