When we were finally seated for a delayed, middle-of-the-night departure from O’Hare, the flight attendant, while conducting her seat-belt check, informed Nate (7) that although there was no in-flight meal service she’d bring him apple juice once we were off the ground. She said she was sorry he was hungry.
Someone heard the dialogue and a large, dark Hersey’s chocolate appeared from across the aisle one row back. Then a sliced turkey sandwich was nudged between the seats from a passenger behind me. I know this could happen anywhere but this serendipitous moment of community affirmed my abiding love for America.
Much earlier, while coming through airport security in Phoenix, I saw things go Nate’s way in a most unexpected manner. You might have realized he has a way…
He’d removed his belt and shoes and had placed his wheeler bag through the X-ray machine when he spied a stash of TSA officers’ candy on a desk off to the side. Before dressing he’d ushered the officer (the one who had just patted him down) to the candy.
When I next saw Nate, after my own run through security, he and the officer were carefully fishing out the exact pieces Nate wanted.
Gosh. I love America. Chocolate, sandwiches, and apple juice, I understand. There are generous people everywhere. But try and getting candy from an airport security officer in Romania, or anywhere else we’ve traveled. I don’t think so.
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