Please stop me if you’ve heard this before: the airlines lost my luggage.

Flying used to be fun — the closest thing to, well, flying. No more.

If my last several months of flying are any indication of modern air travel, I’m ready to be grounded.

I am not alone in this feeling.

A friend told me he is so over the drama of standing in lines, of flight delays, and of never knowing whether he’ll make his connection, that he drives anything less than a day away.

Earlier this week while circling Denver’s airport — my connecting flight lifting off a runway below — I took a deep breath and reflected, telling myself to not get upset over what I could not control.

And from 10,000 feet, I was pretty darn useless to change the circumstances.

Like stacked dominos, a delay on anything other than a

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