The crowd at the Honolulu airport was very heavy last Tuesday. After checking the luggage, one must enter the TSA line which stretched well out the door.
A Hawaiian Airlines representative saw me leaning on a cane, and escorted me to the front of the line. I appreciated the consideration because the leg was getting sore; nevertheless I did feel a twinge of guilt for not waiting my turn.
Could this trip's accident have foreshadowed a not-so-distant future of infirmity, disability placards, and loss of independence? Being able to cut to the front of the line is a seductive pleasure, and I hope that I never ever feel that I'm entitled to do so.
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