We return now to an event from our trip to Ottawa. I’ve just about blogged myself out on that trip, but I left this one out. So here it is, out of sequence and a few weeks late.
We stood behind him in line when we were waiting to rent ice skates. He was returning his. Sadly, he found out after a long while that he was in the wrong place to return skates. So he left us, got in a different line and started waiting from scratch.
As it turned out, my skates were too small, and I had to return them. As I walked up to the return line, I saw him standing there in his white winter coat, still waiting patiently.
“Are you still waiting in this line?” I asked as I walked up behind him.
“Yes,” he said, rolling his eyes.
We introduced ourselves.
“I’m David,” I said. “We’re visiting from Texas.”
“I’m Nasser,” he said. “I’m from Palestine.”
We shook hands, and at that point I noticed that he was not at the end of the line but rather in the middle. In walking up behind him, I had cut in line big time.
“Oh,” I said, looking at the people behind him. “I got in line at the wrong place.”
“No,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You are with me. Here, step in closer.”