I was flying the other day and found myself seated next to a young woman headed home on her college break. She had her ear pods in for most of the flight, which was fine, since I did, too. After a while, we both disconnected for a little while and exchanged a few words. She did most of the talking, which was fine with me. I do enough talking. Talking is over-rated, I think. Listening is often most relaxing and far more revealing of things, which might not be as boring to you as yourself at times. It turned out that the young woman, although she certainly looked like a young woman, was a kid. "I'm going to turn 21 in two weeks, and I'm going to have to cross state lines with my friends, find a place where we can really celebrate," she said. Her school is in a rural area of the Carolinas, and no liquor is allowed on campus. The local town has one bar. She was thinking about Georgetown. Georgetown, city of sin! Twenty-one, I thought. At that age, I didn't have a care in the world about my future. I just assumed it would appear. The world at that time seemed ripe with opportunity. Not for her. "I'm going to grad school for a couple of years after I graduate," she said. "I sure don't want to be out in the job market right now." Of course she didn't. There is no job market to speak of.