Travel is wonderful. You have a variety of experiences, see a lot of sights. Sometimes you see what you have only read about. That happened to me this weekend. I was spending time in Baltimore-Washington International Airport. I had read the abandoned Washington Post that I had picked up in the lounge area. While I would rather have kept reading, I knew that the wise person would get some exercise before a sedentary flight to St. Louis so I took off on a brisk stroll through the airport.
While I was walking, I passed a couple of young sailors in dress whites. I smiled and my throat tightened. I saw another who was evidently the commander for the others in a newsstand. My dad had been in the Navy in World War II so felt a bit of kinship to those unknown service men. A little later I heard clapping as I approached a gate. I supposed there was a returning platoon from somewhere and continued to walk closer. No, it was not soldiers. It was an honor flight. About twenty World War II veterans were getting off the plan, some walking, some in wheelchairs, all smiling and waving to the cheering crowd. More and more of us stopped as we drew closer. One of the men, accompanied by an escort of a son or younger brother, paused to wave his hand high and shout, "I'm ninety-three!" People cheered louder. For all the world, all I could do was clap and gasp for breath. My throat had closed almost completely, it seemed, although I wasn't crying. I saw my dad get off the plane about twenty times while I watched. Just as I was leaving I saw the three sailors in dress whites standing at the opening of the gate. They had greeted each veteran as he had entered the airport. My biggest regret is that I saw about 10 of them sitting in wheelchairs arranged in a semi-circle and I didn't take a picture. They are going to spend the day at Washington D.C., touring the WWII memorial and other things. My applause was a very little part of their time in D.C. but I hope it made them feel appreciated. I know I felt better.