by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from Poosey.
I knew something was fishy when the Chicago police surrounded our plane. We’d just landed at O’Hare when a covey of police cruisers circled the plane and the gentlemen in blue started taking long guns out of their trunks.
I’d experienced some memorable landings. In Honolulu sarong-clad girls draped flowery leis around our necks, and in Sydney we were each handed a toy