He was a man-kid. More man than kid. Coming down the escalator in North Carolina. Army uniform. Reverse flag on the shoulder. Peach fuzz haircut. Heavy green backpack slung over his shoulder.
The escalator was loaded with passengers, on our way to the baggage claim area where we would stand around for a few hours, waiting for our bags, which look just like everyone else’s bags, except that each bag is a slightly different shade of black.
We, the people on the escalator all wore the weary looks of airline travelers. You could just tell many of these people had been sitting on planes for the better part of a presidential administration.
Many of us had experienced flight delays. Delays which had begun somewhere during the Punic wars. One old man looked like he’d slept in his clothes since he was 12.
But the kid in U.S. uniform wore a smile. A big one. When the soldier got closer to the halfway point, a woman shouted.
“John!” she yelled.
She was youngish. Her voice reverberated throughout the airport.
Beside the young woman were two little girls. Pigtails. Colorful T-shirts.
“Daddy!” said the girls.
The people on the escalator all seemed to know who these little girls were shouting at. And we all turned to look at the man in uniform who was pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Welcome home, Daddy!”
The first person to start applauding was a flight attendant. She was mid-forties. Toting a carry-on bag. A few people around her joined in. Airline captains. Businessmen. Columnists.
Applause is a strange thing. It spreads. It doesn’t take much to get people going. A few lone claps picked up some accompaniment. The noise level grew louder.
Soon, it sounded as if the entire baggage claim area were applauding.
When the young soldier reached ground level, he walked toward the young mother. He took the woman into his arms, along with the two girls. It was a four-person hug sandwich.
The little girls threw their arms around Daddy. Mom was holding Daddy’s head. And the applause was trickling out.
And I think, looking back, we who were applauding were all waiting for the same thing to happen. We expected it to happen. In much the same way you expect a guy at a baseball park who proposes to his girlfriend on the giant TV screen to seal the deal with his lips.
The young soldier did exactly that. He took his bride into his arms and kissed her.
The airport came unglued.
Cat calls. Cheering. Screams of joy. Hollering. More applause.
And as the young family walked away, I saw the young soldier wiping his face with his sleeve. Nobody’s feet were touching the ground.
The airline attendant next to me was grinning from port to starboard.
“That was really cool,” I said to the attendant beside me.
The attendant looked at me and smiled. “And it never gets old.”
Sean Dietrich is a columnist and novelist known for his commentary on life in the American South. He has authored nine books and is the creator of the “Sean of the South” blog and podcast. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to Commentary@1819News.com.
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