Ititched, the wire was digging into my chest. I was sweating. I kept tryingto adjust it without anyone noticing me.The class was over. Finally.I found...the nearest restroom. I almost entered the men’s room but stoppedbefore I entered the doorway. That would’ve been embarrassing for allparties. I walked to the next door over and entered the women's room andshoved my hand under my dress to fix this damn bra. I think I got it.Maybe.A girl came in. I took my hands out of my bra and dress, smiled. “I’ll call her from there.”I of course, promptly forgot. I hate getting old. 29 isn’t old, you idiot. I know ... but thirty is next. Never trust anyone over thirty.It wasn’t until I spotted the Beech H model that I remembered. That’s pretty, I thought.“I am?”“What?” said Amy.“I see a FOR SALE sign on the propellers of that Beech,” I said.“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a real deal.”“Why?”“Remember that Directory from the FAA?”“Straps on the mainspar?”“Yup ... those.”“What about it?”“Mr. Montenegro had. More

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