Trouble on Concourse B

On our way to our gate in the Denver International Airport on Tuesday, Robin and I created a bit of a mess. As my friends all know, I suffer from peripheral neuropathy, so I trip over my feet easily, and my sense of balance is all but gone. So, to be safe from falling, we took the “people mover” at the airport. But I made the mistake of putting my luggage in front of me instead of behind me and when we got to the end of the mover, you know, where you gracefully step off the damn thing, my suitcase stopped abruptly with part of it still on the mover, but I kept moving. I tripped on the luggage and immediately fell to the floor. Robin was behind me, and so she tripped over me, and she fell also, which resulted in a huge pile of two senior citizens, two suitcases, a backpack, and another carry-on in a jumbled pile on the floor of Concourse B.

Within two seconds we were surrounded by a dozen people who helped us to recover our composure. One young woman wrapped her arms around my middle, face to face, and hoisted me to my feet in what was the most intimate embrace I have had from a woman other than my wife since 1965. At the same time, another woman put her finger through the belt loop at the back of my pants and lifted. At that point I remember feeling like a dead deer being scooped off the highway to reduce interference with oncoming traffic. One man helped Robin get up. The kindness and caring of all these bystanders were truly amazing.

Neither of us was hurt seriously, but the entire incident was incredibly embarrassing. So, I ripped off my NK95 mask and snapped loudly “If you enjoyed that, please come to our Friday afternoon performance. You won’t believe what we can do on that other “people mover” to your left.” Everyone laughed, and I am sure that if I had placed a large hat on the floor at my feet, it would have been filled with dollar bills.

When we finally got to a seat at our gate, I was still upset with the poor agility I now possess. I was angry about the state of my legs and feet and tibial nerve and aging. I muttered to Robin that I am never traveling again, which made her incredibly frustrated, and we argued. But then I broke the tension by saying “I should have gotten the number of that young woman who hugged me.”

Within a few hours we were home again. I sat brooding on our deck with a scotch and a cigar that evening, and I contemplated whether I should ever leave my home in the woods again.