The man sitting next to me is a tightly wound bundle of energy, or ADD, hard to tell. He is in his 60s, lean and wiry like a crazed marathoner, and does everything quickly and with gusto. He stuffs a laptop and a book, Michael Lewis’ Premonition, into the seatback pocket and pulls out a large plastic bag which contains, as it turns out, multiple sandwiches and some blue cheese (for which he apologizes later. We agree boiled eggs would have resulted in a seat change request.)

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