I’ve heard (multiple) teachers say they don’t enjoy going to the store, because they run into their students. I don’t understand this.
There was Chuy behind the counter at a McDonald’s. There was Dominic who worked at the Apple Store and came over to say hello. There was Derek who came running out from the Discount Tire garage to say hi. There was Paisley who smiled her demure smile from the hostess stand when we walked into Cypress Grill. And Nolan’s sister a different time at the same place. Nathaniel’s family seated next to us at Via 313. Cash’s dad at Double Dave’s. There was Lyla waving from the window of her white SUV as she left the Post Office parking lot. Sienna behind the front desk at the YMCA. Kayla and Alex and Mea and Mateo in the lifeguard stands as I swam laps. Dylan shouting from his bike as he rode by our yard.
…
So there we were at the airport in the pre-dawn hours. The kids had arrived mostly on time. Amanda was ahead of them in the security line. I bookended at the back.
I put my stuff in the bin to be scanned. Took my laptop out of my bag. Wallet out of my pocket. Phone. A TSA agent with blue latex gloves pulled the bin toward the conveyor belt.
“Hello Mr. Hasan,” he said.
Ok, who was this. This is the moment of dread. The neurons fire. The hair is not familiar. Certainly not the uniform. But his eyes. His smile. My eyes light up, but no name comes forth.
“Anthony,” he says.
“Right!” I say. “Two years ago, right?”
“Right.”
I reached out. We dapped up. He was all smiles.
“It’s good to see you, Anthony. You look great.”
All smiles.
This a bad thing?