Boarding Pass

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I wish I could remember that young man’s name.

I was just thinking of this fellow I met at the end of my vacation to Denver and Nebraska last October.

It was quite a trip. I had finally kept a promise to myself by going out to the Cornhusker State, and I got to meet up with my family in the Mile High City.

Not bad, I thought, reaching around to give myself an imaginary pat on the back.

And now it was time to go home, which meant getting on an airplane, of course, which, in turn, meant I was a nervous wreck.

Things had gotten off to a rickety start when the airport’s automated train system got stuck in the tunnel as I was heading to the JetBlue terminal.

Being a New Yorker, I immediately had a flashback to far too many subway shutdowns I’d experienced over the years. Now that I work from home, those incidents are much less frequent, but the anger remains in the wings just waiting to take center stage.

So, the one time I come to Denver, the goddamn train system goes down, I groused, as the robot choo‑choo sat idly in the tunnel.

Finally, we moved, and I got to the JetBlue gate in plenty of time. I was hungry, grumpy, and nervous about getting on a plane.

And then this heavyset young fellow who was waiting for the same flight walked up to me and started talking.

It was just light conversation, but I was more than happy to speak with him. I’m not sure why he picked me, but he was traveling solo as well, so maybe he just wanted some company.

Traveling alone can be a bit of a downer sometimes, so I welcome any friendly encounter.

Have Your Tickets Ready

This man was a Denver native who had been hired by JetBlue as a passenger service agent. He was on his way to Orlando, by way of New York, to attend orientation classes at the airline’s employee training center.

At one point, I had to excuse myself to use the gents, but I didn’t want him to think I was using the trip to the loo as an excuse to ditch him, so I made sure to come back and resume our talk.

We talked about our careers and our families, and when I mentioned my father had fought in World War II, he told me his grandfather had fought in the same conflict.

And then it was time to board our plane. We were seated at opposite ends of the aircraft, so we would be parting company here. As they called out his group, the young fellow shook my hand.

“You’re a nice guy, Rob.”

Well, I certainly hope so. And I hope he’s doing well and that his training goes well.

So, yes, it was just a minor conversation that lasted 10 or 15 minutes, and I’m sure we’ll never see each other again, but I am grateful for the experience.

Given all the ying‑yangs we have to deal with on a daily basis, it’s nice to have a pleasant interaction every so often.

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember your name, my friend, but wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck.

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