In a state of panic and fearing catastrophe, I am writing this mid-flight as I fly Calgary, Alberta, to Los Angeles on American Airlines. I did everything right: bought two seats, a ticket for myself and one for my Andrea Guarneri cello of 1669. I checked in, got two boarding passes, and went to the boarding gate without problem. It all went so smoothly — the cello and I were even pre-boarded — one of the easier of the literally thousands of flights we have taken together. Until . . .
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