I made it, mostly; part 2

I get in line at American Airlines, fumbling around a bit trying not to bump into to many people, drop my bags or loose my dignity. I am amazed at the advances in airport check-in technology. Years ago, just after people rode around on dinosaurs, just prior to the invention of the wheelie bag, they had only one line at the airport with two people working. Now they have three lines, and kiosks which most of the time are smarter than a person anyways. One line is for print ticket and carry-on bags, another line is for print ticket and we will take your bag and probably lose it for you (this is the line I stumble into most of the time), the other line is for those who have achieved demigod status. The subdivision of lines achieves at least several of its goals: efficiency, creating a caste system in America, and cutting down on waiting time. I only had to spend twenty minutes waiting for the next available kiosk. In that time I managed to find my I.D., military orders, and burn 447 calories, moving through the maze to get the cheese. When I got the front and confused the ingenious kiosk with my simple flight information, the inferior human asked for my paperwork, he looked up and blurted out, "You're not flying on American, your flying United!" I turned around and saw the myriads of people envying my position in line especially because I didn't belong there in the first place. I turned back to the town cryer and said, "can you announce that over the intercom? I think a few people in the back didn't hear you."

I shifted my packs that would cripple a caravan of camels and headed for the United kiosk line...