Some of you on another site know my righteous Curmudgeon Alerts on language, grammar, and usage. File this under issues having to do with my rants against The Help:
Waiting to board the first leg of a flight from Salt Lake City where Charlie and I had visited two of his elderly relatives and then spent a few days skiing with friends (C. skied; I hiked) an elderly African-American woman arrived at the boarding area in a wheelchair pushed by an airport staff person.
The woman in the wheelchair was heavyset, wearing a dark brown pants suit and a wig of similar color (both polyester) and dark sensible shoes. She held a sturdy cane. At one point we smiled and nodded (a generational courtesy I grew up with.)
The flight landed at the Ohio/Kentucky airport behind schedule. Concerned about making our connection to Boston, as soon as the aisle cleared for our row to exit I grabbed my coat, my handbag, and wheeling my carry-on behind me, all but sprinted to the front of the plane.
Because packing light sometimes means wearing heavier items to be able to close the suitcase, I had on a favorite colorful blue/green cable knit heavy sweater, blue jeans, and bright red felt Land’s End snow boots with thick soles.
As I reached the door, one of the FAs said something I didn’t totally catch as I rushed by (she really did have a Dixie drawl) but that ended in “… will be right there waiting for you.” Hoping she meant our connecting flight, I stopped, said “sorry, I didn’t quite hear…” and was told that my wheelchair would be right outside the door waiting for me (!)
I guess we really all do look alike. God bless the South.
P.S. I should be clear that it really was a fantastic and delightful week- – just couldn’t resist telling this All-American story.