I'm trying to find a poem that I'm relatively certainly was published in The New Yorker. I think I read it around 10 years ago, but definitely a margin of error of a couple of years on either side of that. It was paired with a cartoon illustration of a man with a suitcase that I think might have been by Charles Bursotti, but the memory is pretty hazy.
It was written from the perspective of a traveler taking a plane flight, humorously equating the traveler with Odysseus as everything goes wrong for him. Either he or only his luggage is at some point diverted to O'Hare, to his great distress. The line that I remember, as best as I can replicate it, is:
O'Hare! The word was like a dagger to my heart. [...] could turn even patient men to savage beasts.
Long shot, but any chance someone can identify it or the author?