I keep expecting Gen to catch on and come help, but she’s still doing some bizarrely complicated briefing up at the exit row. Instead of settling for verbal affirmation that the passengers are willing to assist in an emergency evacuation, she seems to be making them prove they can open the door. One by one, they wiggle around each other to mime pulling the plastic cap off the handle and pulling it down. It’s like a game of Twister no one volunteered to play. In spite of myself—and the fact that I’ve seat-jumped myself all the way up to row thirteen—I laugh at the absurdity.
