Being Good
Created | Updated 3 Weeks Ago
Being Good
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'Give me a hand, son?'
I usually hate being called 'son', usually reply 'Son? I've got tee shirts older than you!'
But the guy standing at the baggage carousel certainly looked like he was old enough to be my father. His impressive beard must've been growing as long as I'd been alive by the length of it. Grandfather maybe?
The guy smiled a wonderful smile and gestured at two identical suitcases coming down the belt. 'If you'd be so kind?'
I prepared myself for the weight, those looked both solid and heavy.
The beautiful luggage seemed to defy gravity as I gripped the handles. The large bags practically flying off the conveyor.
'Wow, nice cases, where did you get them? My wife would love a set like that!'
'Squirrels. They're made by squirrels. Nice job too, eh?'
'Gorgeous. . . and so light. Never heard of Quirrels though?'
'Squirrels, with an S. . . you know, little furry guys with big bushy tails?'
The guy held both his hands to his rather impressive belly and let out the best laugh I'd ever heard.
Contagious laugh. I couldn't help but join him in his mirth, even though the joke was a little lame.
He looked around the airport, judging how far the exit was.
Before I knew it, I was offering to carry his bags out for him.
'Very kind. Very kind. You're a good lad!'
Again, being called lad was usually triggering for me, but coming from him, it just felt. . . well. . . right?
'My ride should be just outside,' he smiled, pulling up his red sleeve to check what looked suspiciously like a novelty miniature cuckoo clock strapped to his wrist, 'Yup, just about now. Bang on time!'
We strolled over to the car park lifts, the holiday crowds seeming to part miraculously before us. Once inside he hit Level 8 (roof) and stood looking up, as though he could see right through the elevator ceiling.
'I'd offer you a lift but. . . '
'Thanks, but my wife's in the pick-up area. . . '
'Very kind, coming out of your way to help an old geezer you don't know from Adam. Good boy, like I say. Your wife's a good girl, too. I'll remember this!'
'Not a problem,' I glanced at my watch, trying to keep my face from telling him just how much of a problem it actually may be. £120 quid for an extra five bloody minutes' parking.
'Don't worry, you won't get charged for over- staying. It's sorted!'
For some strange reason I believed him. All was good.
The lift doors opened, the guy held out his hand to give me a rather warm handshake, pulling me in for a friendly hug.
His hair smelled of cocoa and happiness.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge that rather weird thought as he turned away, the two large suitcases seeming to bob around at his sides, like two eager puppies.
He stopped and turned, smiling, 'Just remember son, always, and I mean always, be good. . . I'll be checking!'
He was still smiling as the sleigh pulled up and he climbed aboard, saying a warm hello to his reindeer!
