By Darren Morris
INT. AIRPORT TERMINAL, CHICAGO
IN LINE AT GATE
A woman, MOLLY, dressed in a straw hat, sweater vest, frizzy, messy hair, large-framed glasses, wearing a fanny pack is standing near the end of the line at the third and final set of tired passengers. She holds an elaborate key ring around which a bulk of plastic cards or badges from loyalty program memberships are strung and fan out.
MOLLY
(sorting through badges) Where are you, darlin’?
(turning toward the man behind, proudly but apologetically)
So many, I get lost in them. Look here, I made bronze at a car rental program - and I don’t even drive.
The fellow passenger behind her in line, CHARLES, humors her and nods.
CHARLES
I thought all that stuff was electronic these days.
MOLLY
(Surprised)
Firstly, what do you mean stuff? It’s a bit more important than that, don’t you think?
CHARLES
(Humored)
I suppose it is...
(and then as an aside to MOLLY, with some emphasis, indicating with a nod the higher classes of passengers boarding before them)
...to some.
MOLLY
(Covering her mouth)
O, them. Don’t you feel sorry for them? They make them get on first and wait the longest.
CHARLES
Seems like we wait for them.
MOLLY
Don’t be silly. We are the guests of honor. When we come strutting in, we have an audience. Pretty soon, wheels up and you’re flying.
CHARLES
And what are the other benefits?