Easter

collectiveA series of choices and a clerical error from last year had resulted in my standing off to the side at the TSA checkpoint for about 25 extra minutes—fumbling to use my Yubikey with my smartphone, an example of yet another decision I’d made in favor of ‘friction’ and ‘security’ that now feels questionable, as any extra friction at a TSA checkpoint becomes exponentially much more costly—so I’d rolled up to my gate only minutes before boarding began. A familiar face approached. “I know you,” he began warmly. It was the man from the RV show! A pastor by trade, with gregarious and charming youth pastor energy, he is currently selling RVs. (“I was looking at your business card this morning,” I laughed. “I was unpacking and repacking my purse.”) His name is Tony. At the RV show he had assured me I didn’t have to stick with any one of his company’s brands. “I can find you anything,” he’d told me gallantly. “Does anyone ever call you St. Anthony?” I’d asked him. “Because you can find…