Hangin' With The Prez

Hangin' with the PrezI picked out my seersucker suit, appropriate for the Atlanta heat, along with a white shirt and a blue tie. I took particular care, which is unusual for me. In the taxi out to Kennedy, I told the driver I wanted to be dropped off at hangar 12. It crossed my mind that he might be impressed by this--perhaps presuming me to be a passenger on a private aircraft, surely a big tipper. We stopped at a checkpoint. Air Force One loomed in front of us, blue and white, mammoth. My driv...