Flying back with our guys in desert camo

My flight from Dallas to Houston last night was one the best I have had in awhile.

For one thing, the flight was only 39 minutes rather than the scheduled hour. I had a window seat in the far rear of the Super MD-80. However, it was right next to the starboard jet engine. It was a packed flight but my seat mates, both in their late 20s and early 30s, were fun and full of piss and vinegar (and probably a Jack Daniels or two as well).

Also on the flight were probably 10 or so soldiers who were returning home from somewhere. The flight attendant announced it but I could only hear they were  returning from somewhere. Dee sitting next to me (I’ll call her that because I can’t remember her name) began clapping after the announcement about the soldiers. I followed her lead and pretty soon we had, at least the back section, giving it up for our young warriors.

From what I could see the flight attendants gave the soldiers some beers instead of charging them $7 each. I don’t think they asked them their age either. Bully for the flight attendants.

The soldiers, of course, all seemed happy to be going home. I think our applauding them and recognizing their service helped buoy them even more.  That’s the way it should be.

I remember when I returned home from boot camp more than 35 years ago. I caught an old Texas International turbo-prop from Houston to Beaumont after flying in on a jet from Chicago and nearby Great Lakes Naval Training Center.

It was 10 p.m. but my Mom and Dad were there at the then-Jefferson County Airport to greet me. I was happy to drive the pickup home some 60 miles away and my folks were happy to let me. I was scared of flying back then. But I do remember on the jet to Houston there was a man sitting next to me who tried to talk me through my discomfort and then bought me a drink.

People like that guy was what drives me to be as kind as I can to young military folks. These young people have a lot on their minds — especially these days — so I walk, maybe not a mile but a little ways figuratively speaking, in my boondockers to help remind myself I was once somewhat like them.

As for the flight, sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have a good time.