I love Texas, especially San Antonio, where I live.
I returned from a three-week cruise, and my plane from Houston to San Antonio was delayed, so I got home later than expected. Since I have given up drinking (because it makes me stupid), I was fully capable of recognizing my bags and getting them off the conveyor belt. Since I am 68, I pack light so I don’t have to lift heavy bags.
A good ol’ Texas boy (I could tell by his twang) struck up a conversation with me. He had come to San Antonio for a new job, and it was the first time he had flown, even though he was about 30 or so.
He said, “I’ll help you with your bags.”
I started to say, “No need. I pack light,” but he seemed to really want to help, and I believe in letting people do their feel-good deeds, so I said, “Thanks.”
He moved close to the belt and said, “Come on, Mom. Stand here beside me.”
Rather than correct him, I said, “Thanks, darlin’. I appreciate it,” and smiled.
He pulled the bags off when they arrived and helped me get them on my trolley. I thanked him again and headed for the taxis.
Someone, somewhere, raised that boy right, and I want to thank whoever did it. It made this grandmother feel good about the human race.
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