“No, ma’am,” Sergeant Miller said.

“They just said you had to be in full dress uniform when you arrived.”

The line clicked off before I could ask him anything more.

I hung up and walked back toward the bank of vinyl seats facing Gate C27.

The terminal lights threw a harsh glare across the row of empty chairs.

I lowered myself onto the cold vinyl cushion and laid the four pages of my travel packet out flat across my knees.

I turned past the travel routing table and held page three up to the light, studying the top right corner where command authorizations usually got logged.