At Gate 47, I sat down. Max curled against my leg, sensing my anxiety. Across from us, a sharply dressed woman in her forties gave me a look of disdain. When she hung up her phone, she spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear:

— “Dogs aren’t allowed in the cabin.”

I stiffened.

— “He’s a service dog; he has all his paperwork.”

She sneered.

— “Of course… another one of those tricks to fly for free.”