I Stole Terrell Davis' Overhead Compartment - 1/23/06
This weekend was our annual "Old College Friends Ski-Trip" in Colorado. I'll get to more on that tomorrow, but I mention it now because it put me in the Denver airport a couple hours after the Broncos' playoff loss last night... and on the same plane as former Broncos star Terrell Davis.

There were a lot of dejected faces in the Denver airport (some of them still painted blue and orange) that evening, flying home to wherever after the Broncos were spanked badly by the Steelers. But one not-so-dejected face belonged to recently retired running back and hometown favorite Terrell Davis, who I found surrounded by admirers near gate 34A, where I awaited my return trip to LAX. It was no coincidence; Terrell was also flying back to LA where he lives, probably in a much nicer house than mine. Thus the non-dejection.

Interestingly, Terrell Davis was flying coach. Possibly because Frontier Airlines has no first-class section (the price you pay for getting to fly with a large goat on your tail-fin), but I wonder if Terrell got as good a deal on Travelocity as I did. Anyway, he was sitting not five rows in front of me, and given the fullness of the flight, I had stowed my backpack in the one open overhead bin I could find - the one right over TD's seat. And when he arrived as one of the last passengers to board the plane (from signing autographs for the pilot's kids, I think), Terrell was displeased to find no room for him to store his bag. I remember him glaring menacingly around the cabin for the owner of the bulbous blue bag that had taken his spot, and imagining that Terrell Davis could probably kick my ass pretty good. But all's fair in love and overhead compartments, and eventually the stewardesses found his bag a home in the special overflow bin reserved for former NFL stars.

But it turns out Terrell Davis is a pretty cool guy - all during the flight I heard him chatting amiably with other passengers and signing boarding passes and sick bags, with no mention at all of the lanky whiteboy backpack owner he was going to maim once the flight landed. And when I finally did file past him upon my deplaning, grinning sheepishly as I pulled down the offending bag, Terrell Davis just smirked and nodded. All's fair in love and coach, and I guess he figured enough people coming from Denver had gotten their asses kicked already that night.



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