Chantel was a tall slender black woman. Her smooth skin was the shade of rich coffee laced with cream. Her long black hair was pulled back into a pony...tail. She wore a white lace brassiere that barely contained her large breasts and a matching white lace skirt that couldn't have been more than six inches long. I gawked. Smiling, Chantel said, "You like my outfit." "Very much." "You told Candy that you just wanted to watch for a little while, but I'm wondering if you might prefer the company of. We stepped into a dream. You might have expected chaos and fear, people hysterical. You found a grim, quiet determination. A small army of us, armed with fluorescent orange crash vests and American flag stickers descended upon the terminals, trying so hard to look in control of a situation we still had not begun to comprehend. We were to provide comfort and guidance, reassurance to the people there. Often, we were the ones comforted, but that in itself can offer comfort to both parties. Many. More

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