"What time does the plane leave?" he asks, looking at his watch.

"Six o'clock," I say.

"Do we have time to buy a bagel before departure?"

"Well, sir, the plane is departing in eight minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says in an irritated voice. "But do we have time to buy a bagel?"

"As I said, sir ... the plane --"

"DO WE HAVE TIME TO BUY A BAGEL?"

Now, here's my dilemma: If I say, "No, I don't think you have time to buy a bagel or a newspaper or a souvenir for your kid," as I've said to countless last-minute boarders in the past, he may respond -- as some of those last-minute boarders have -- as if I have a personal vendetta. "YOU, a lowly flight attendant, are telling ME that I don't have time to get a bagel?" (This makes me wonder why they bother to ask in the first place.)

If I say, "Yes, you have time, but hurry," and the passenger returns to find that the plane has departed without him, he'll want to sue the airline. "So what if it took me 45 minutes -- the flight attendant told me I had time to get a bagel!"

So, in an effort to maintain my sanity and my job, I respond to the bagel-loving husband with politically correct logic. "I'm sorry, sir, but I do not know how long it will take you to walk to the bagel counter. I do not know how many people are standing in the bagel line. Nor do I know how quickly the bagel people can prepare, package and ring up your bagel order. Furthermore, I don't even know where the bagel counter is. What I do know is that this plane is departing in exactly (I look at my watch) seven minutes. If YOU think that's enough time to buy a bagel, then by all means go and buy a bagel."

Both the husband and wife give me a dirty look. They stomp into the jet bridge, twin Travel Pros swerving behind them like tiny black automobiles out of control. The husband tosses a last-minute insult over one shoulder. "We're never flying this fucking airline again."

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