We had always driven out there. A two-day road trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico, was a regular, biannual pilgrimage for me and my family to visit my dad’s parents and siblings. However, this time I was flying. It was a solo trip. I was 15 years old and it was the summer before I began my first year of high school. I was old enough to travel alone but young enough to be apprehensive about it.
I remember getting off of the plane in Dallas Fort Worth International Airport and immediately calling my dad. Dallas was a fitting place to have my layover, as it was where we were accustomed to stopping for the night on our way out there and on the way back home. It was our halfway point of the road trip. As I walked across the jet bridge, I reflected on how different of a form of travel it was. A two-day trip, which at moments seemed grueling, was reduced to one day. I would even be in New Mexico before the sun went down, considering my first flight was in the morning. There was not the attrition of driving long hours on the highway, an experience that I only knew through my parents and the caffeine that was needed to keep them attentive. For the airplane passenger the responsibility amounted to being at your gate on time. Once you made it onto the plane you were in good hands.
It was sometime in the afternoon that I landed in Dallas, and I needed to find somewhere to get lunch. I had about an hour till my next flight and I didn’t want to waste time, so I decided on a Buffalo Wild Wings that didn’t look busy. I sat down and ordered a burger and fries. I thought about how my first time traveling alone was going so far. If I didn’t lose anything, got to where I needed to be on-time, and had all the proper documents, then I would be fine. So far, so good.
As I finished my meal the waitress came back to the table, and I began pulling a crumpled-up bill out of my pocket. The waitress saw this and remarked, “Oh, don’t worry about paying. That couple over there has already paid for you.” I glanced over at the table across from me and an older couple smiled and waved. I smiled back and thanked them. Soon after I was on my way to catch the next flight.
Certainly, they recognized that I was young, on my own, and nervous. Perhaps they were even able to tell that this was my first time flying alone. I was lucky enough to have a couple of strangers looking out for me, and it eased the nerves I had about a day of air travel by myself. For my part, I plan on paying this act of benevolence back in 20 or 30 years by finding someone who looks like they could use a free meal in an airport restaurant.
