Photo by Pedro Dias on Unsplash

When my grandma died, my roommate Lisa drove me to the airport. A co-worker of hers had a flight at the same time — 6:50 a.m. — and we both wanted to get there the recommended two hours early. It was too early for public transit, too expensive to justify a car service. It was dark, before dawn, and chilly waiting for the heat vents to warm us. I blinked away sleep in the passenger seat while we waited for her co-worker to arrive in the empty SODO…