We All Look The Same

After an insane-o flight I walked like a zombie through customs into an unmarked line that seemed as good as any other. As I passed, some young West African guy asked if he could borrow my pen to fill out his customs form. He was taking a really long time and I was watching this unlabeled line get longer and longer so I told him to keep it and walked away. About ten minutes later I watched the kid scope the line and then hand my pen to the only other white lady around. She happened to be 50 years old, blond, and wearing a trench coat.