“Do you know which way your gate is?”
I look up at the airline employee who just checked me in. It’s 4:52 a.m. at San Antonio Interational Airport.
“Excuse me?”
She repeats the question.
I look right. There is a security checkpoint over there.
I look left. About 10 feet away, there is a blank, white wall. There are no doors or exits or windows, only a dead end. I don’t have any rappelling equipment with me, and I’ve left my chainsaw at home. TSA orders.
I look up at her. She’s waiting for an answer: left, to the dead end, or right, to the gates.
I point. She smiles. I’ve passed the test.