How hard would it be to stock airport waiting lounges with comfy old sofas? Little side tables with doilies and framed photos of the pilots' grandchildren? Hire elderly ladies to wear aprons and come around plumping your pillows and offering cocoa? Is that too much to ask? For those of you with innuendoish inclinations, and you know who you are, "plumping your pillows" is not a metaphor for anything, so cut it out. By the way, that guy in the lower right seems benign the way I drew him, but he was a perfect avatar for a type of businessman who speaks in normal timbres at the office and at home, but once he finds himself in an airport waiting lounge feels compelled to dial up a minion and bark imperious commands for all to hear and marvel at. Once again I say it's a good thing the personal death ray hasn't been invented yet. Although when it is, I won't be able to afford it, so I'll just have to be satisfied with the pinching. I can pinch really hard.