Yesterday was filled with surprises. At some point, I made the discovery that my Facebook account had been hacked. I deleted the entry and changed my password. I learned long ago the emotions are right or wrong. They just are. There was no denying it, I was frustrated.
A couple of passengers I met on the flight from New Orleans to D.C. provided the diversion I needed to move away from the sense of frustration. My boarding pass was B-16 and reportedly it was a full flight. Sometimes my vision can be narrow, and all I saw when I stepped on the plane was middle seats. I prefer to have an aisle seat. Of course, I have been known to sleep with my head against the wall in a window seat. The middle seat is most good for nothing but passageway to the next stop.
I didn't have a lot of time to think about it. I had only passed a few rows when a lady seated to my left said: "If you want to sit here, I will move to the middle seat, and you can have this one." What a kind gesture!
I responded, "You might need to ask the guy in the window seat if that is okay?" She laughed and said: "He's my husband. He told me to ask you." When I was seated, the guy said: "This is a full flight, and the middle seat was not going to be empty. If possible, in these circumstances, we try to pick out who we want to sit with us."
I felt privileged to be the pick of the liter, so to speak. They couple has just moved to Virginia. Though it should have been obvious from the baseball cap he was wearing, I asked where they moved from. They moved to the D.C. area from San Diego.
I didn't ask about their need for a mental health assessment, but there had to be a lose wire somewhere. Who trades year-round perfect weather and a view of the Pacific for Washington? Of course, I later learned they aren't people to burn bridges. The chose to keep their home in San Diego and leased it, rather than sell it. They thought they or any of their four sons might want to call San Diego home again. If they sold the house, they would have been in the land of no return.
Of course, when they told me their home in Virginia backs up to the Potomac River, I didn't feel too sorry for them. After all, George Washing could have built his home anywhere on the Eastern Seaboard. He chose the Potomac River. So did they.
The couple have been married 27 years. The have four sons. The oldest is 26 and the youngest is 18. What a different experience they are going to have. They can now actually experience four seasons rather than one. However, the perfect season in San Diego would potentially be very difficult to leave.
When I parted ways with them at Reagan National Airport, I was emotionally in much better place than where I had been when I boarded the plane. I want say in short-order, I was back in the frustration neighborhood. Actually, it took a while for me to get there.
An hour and forty-five minutes later when I left the airport without my luggage, I was in the company of many who were equally frustrated. There was an equipment glitch of some kind, and they could not get the luggage off of the plane.
As luck would have it, my coat was inside my luggage. This morning, It is hanging in my hotel closet. I am content.
All My Best!
Don
No comments:
Post a Comment