Guess what I saw when I flipped down my tray table on Tuesday night:
Considering myself an introvert, I refrained from pressing my flight attendant call button. I did, however, establish meaningful eye contact with the next attendant who walked past during pre-flight maneuvering.
"I'm a lucky guy," I said, wedged into the middle seat in one of the plane's backmost rows. (Irony is rarely lost on me.) I pointed at the sticker and gave a winning smile. "I'm ready for my prize!"
The attendant may or not have rolled his eyes. If he did, the gesture was tasteful in its subtlety. "We'll see if we can find that prize once we're in the air," he said and moved on briskly.
I reverted to introversion, losing myself in Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. No more mention of prizes the rest of the flight; my champion must never have found one. Still, I felt plenty lucky -- having won several days of celebratory family reunion and a ready-made slice.