Be kind to strangers

This morning I had a profound experience while traveling to Portland.  It's going to sound like one of those e-mails that you get, telling some sappy story before asking you to forward it to ten of your friends.  I typically delete those e-mails on sight, no matter who sends them to me.  However, this story has affected me, so I'd like to share it.

I won't go into all of the details, but suffice it to say that Emily and I were running late.  There was more that a little bit of stress in the air as we were waiting in the check bag line about fifty minutes before our flight.  The man behind the desk had just opened up a second line, but we were already past the dividing rope. These moments always frustrate me, as the people in the back of the line end up filling up that line before the people further up can move over.  I was then tapped on the shoulder, and a very kind, elderly, but heavily accented voice said, "Sir, would you please go ahead in front of me."  I'm not sure what it was, maybe it was the gentleness of his voice, but these simple words affected me so that I couldn't put them out of my head.  As we walked off toward security, I thanked him and wished him a good day.  I noticed he was carrying one of those military backpacks that we see too often at the airport these days.  I almost decided to thank him for his or his child's service, but I decided to keep walking.

As we were boarding our flight, I saw him again.  He was being questioned by a security guard about his ID.  I was close enough to hear that they were asking to see his passport, and whether it was a language or cultural barrier, the old man wasn't understanding.  Several people around me were looking at him with questioning stares, and I couldn't help but say, "I hope he is able to get on... he's such a nice man." I said this loud enough that the people immediately surrounding me wouldn't think to badly of the little man who was starting to get a little frustrated with the misunderstanding with the security guard.

Right before we pulled away from the gate, he walked onto the plane as the last passenger.  I smiled a little as he walked down the aisle.  The sorority girl who was sitting in front of me, who had slightly annoyed me, due to a ridiculous conversation she was having, politely asked him if he'd been able to find his passport.  I'm not sure why he proceeded to tell this story, but after he confirmed that his passport was located, he told us the reason for his trip.  His son had been in the army and had fought in one of the wars.  After coming home he had not adjusted well, and he had taken his own life with a gun.  He had flown into the country for the funeral, which was yesterday.  The passengers around us all looked stunned as he slowly made his way past us to find his seat.  I looked over to Emily who already had tears streaming down her cheeks to match the ones that were welling up in my own eyes.

It's odd when a set of random events with a stranger touch your heart like this man's story did mine, but I'm very thankful that I had this encounter.  Despite all of the pain he was going through, he still found the kindness to be polite to us, and he did it so graciously that it made us take notice of him.  I'll never see him again, but I think I'll forever be influenced by out interactions.  Perhaps I'll be a little less irritated with the sorority girls chatting loud enough for the entire plane to hear, or I'll let a hurried couple past me when I'm obviously in a hurry myself.  My thoughts and prayers go out to the old man, and I hope the many pains of traveling elude him for his long journey home.