FAAck you, peasant. Best I can tell, the disaster started early last week, grew much worse Thursday, and rapidly accelerated early Friday, at which point the Mid-Atlantic airports collapsed into chaos — an infrastructural disaster that extended through the weekend, was then exacerbated by storms across the country, and somehow never cracked the news. I wouldn’t know about it myself had so many people close to me not been traveling, and were I not that annoying person in every friend group who lives on the internet, and is therefore bombarded with questions whenever something strange is happening. “Michael, pull it up,” my mom has said to me for several decades. But beyond corroborating the fact that something had indeed gone catastrophically wrong after skimming a handful of flight trackers, I had nothing to report. Not even our citizen journalists were on the case, a silence that became, for me, the most unnerving aspect of the weekend, as broad public disinterest in the story wildly contrasted with what I heard from the ground.
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