A young man with stumped arms and legs wheeled himself towards the priority seating boarding line. The stewardess quickly offered assistance, and together with another crew member the three disappeared down the breezeway.
An Iraq casualty? A suicide bomber attack? An innocent civilian caught in the middle of a battle?
A mother’s son. A country’s soldier.
My mind did not settle down during the fifteen minutes it took me to embark the plane as a number four zone, economy-class passenger.
I entered the aircraft and again encountered the priority passenger seated in the first row, first class, aisle seat. With the precision of someone with ten fingers, my mystery man was typing away on his iPad.
I drifted out of pity mode and melted into awe and admiration.
He deserves every priority on every plane, train and boat anywhere in this world.