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| June 24, 2008
Random Acts
I am a philanthropic misanthrope. It's not that I hate humanity. The inner core of me is truly bright and full of hope. My sarcastic outer layer is mostly posturing and the result of my intuition needing an outlet. When I first saw the cute young soldier at the Salt Lake City airport in his camo (have you noticed the new pattern? it looks digital, sort of pixelated--not like olive and beige amoeba), my thoughts were a bit more lascivious than I'd like to admit. But then something happened that really made me feel good about the world. I was waiting for my flight home (through Dallas-Fort Worth) and watching CNN near the gate's counter. The flight was a bit delayed so the area was crowded with people who were not in the best mood. I was semi-eavesdropping the conversations at the counter. Mostly people on standby or worried about making their connecting flights. Then a thin blonde woman who spoke softly so I had to strain to hear was trying to do something with the gate agent. I didn't understand. She said something like "I saw him over in 22 but he's on this flight" (we were at Gate 21). The gate agent was (to be polite) not that bright. He was almost robotic as he asked her questions. The woman seemed a bit frustrated. Not obnoxiously so, more like she didn't want a production for what should be simple. It turns out the woman was flying first class and wanted to give her seat to the soldier. The agent motioned for him to come over, and she looked somewhat embarrassed to have to face him. The agent explained what was going on and asked to see his ticket. Sheepishly, she said to the solder, "You should fly first class. I get to do it all the time for work. It's definitely more fun, and you deserve it." The agent was doing whatever it is those people do at those ancient computers. He asked her what she wanted to do with the frequent flier miles, which, of course, she didn't care about--she just wanted to do something nice for a stranger as close to anonymously as possible. New boarding passes were printed and exchanged. The soldier thanked the woman. She said to him "I have a soldier over there myself" and went back into the crowd of people waiting for the plane to board. I'm not ashamed to admit I almost cried. Not because it was a grand gesture. It was precisely the small comfort she wanted to share that made it so amazing. When I lose my faith in people, I will remember that. Sometimes, being the jaded jackass that I am, I can lose sight of the idea that supporting our troops isn't just code for supporting their errant commander-in-chief. I am truly grateful for the sacrifice those men and women have made for their country. I give them my utmost respect. I don't have to like this war to do so. I wanted to thank her but didn't. Maybe it would have made it about her when she didn't want it to be. Maybe it would have made it about me too, which it wasn't. What she did for him, though, she did for me. I've never flown first class. Maybe someday I will. But, as I made my way to the back of the plane, seeing him smiling in that seat did more for me than a few more inches of legroom ever could. Weeks later that act still buoys me. I have to believe that we're here for a reason. And the best reason I can come up with is to take care of each other. It's the earnest part of me that will never die. Thankfully. |
Sister Bernadette's Barking Dog: The Quirky History and Lost Art of Diagramming Sentences - Kitty Burns Florey  Sublimation Point - Jason Schneiderman 
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