Name: Caiden stollar
Date: June 5th 2019
English | Graded Assignment | Interim Checkpoint 4, Part 2
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Interim Checkpoint 4, Part 2
Total score: ____ of 15 points
Read the passage. Then answer the questions.
Faizula Turner was too good for this world. At least, that’s what he’d been told on several occasions: after waiting for two hours in a parking lot for the owner of a car that was parked way too close to his own so that he could confess he had left an almost invisible scratch on its rearview mirror, or after working overtime to cover for a new coworker who had dropped the ball on a project, or after offering to help the friend of a friend move. Loved ones often advised him that he should stop being so kind to strangers. None of those strangers was going to send a card to his deathbed, thanking him for sacrificing his own plans for someone else’s sake.
He was sitting on a flight from Nashville to Chicago, trying to find a spreadsheet with housing regulations and standards in the innards of his laptop and smartphone, ruing the fact that he couldn’t use the Internet mid-flight, and starving because it was Ramadan. He hadn’t had a chance to break his fast yesterday evening, and he had long since decided to take the religion of his mother seriously. Being a tall man, he was tightly cramped in his seat. Then the woman in front of him jammed her seat back with a sudden jerk, snapping his laptop shut. He considered reclining his seat back as well, but decided against it because he didn’t want to inconvenience the person behind him. Meanwhile, the flight attendants were slowly backing down the aisle and delivering refreshments. They were reciting their incantatory supplication over and over: “Can I get you something to drink? Salty snack or fruit? Can I get you something to drink? Salty snack or fruit?”
He looked at the snacks. The salty ones were just what you’d expect: little bags of pretzels. But the fruit snack was something he’d never seen on a flight before, and he could have sworn it was a mockery intended for him. It was a clear, sealed plastic bag full of sweaty, green grapes and—cruelly—pitted dates, the food he was supposed to break fast with at sundown. To take his mind off the indignity of those dates, he tried once again to search for some keyword that might locate the spreadsheet in his email inbox, but he couldn’t find anything.
Faizula’s flight landed 20 minutes late and then sat on the runway for an extra half hour before it finally pulled into the terminal. He let at least 30 people pass before he politely wedged himself far enough into the aisle to be taken seriously and get his backpack out of the overhead compartment. He made his way as quickly as possible from the gangway into the terminal to a seat in a corner where he could get online. He searched through the list of wireless signals for...