Chapter Ten
There were times Claudia wished shed lived in an earlier age, when travel had something mysterious and romantic about it. There should be something awe-inspiring about traveling six miles above the ground at half the speed of sound, but taking a trip by plane now had all the charm and excitement of taking a bus. One plane looked and felt very much like any other plane, one terminal looked and felt much like any other terminal. It all boiled down to sitting in a long metal tube surrounded by strangers and waiting. In the meantime, you took it on faith that whoever was driving the thing knew what they were doing and that whoever maintained the machinery was competent and thorough. Every airline tried to reassure its passengers that air travel was safe, citing statistics to prov
