When I was 20, I got a call from my Dad that my Grandfather was in the hospital and was not expected to make it more than a day or two. I immediately went to the airport, but was told that there was no way that they could get me out on a flight that day, and my only option was to drive down to Salt Lake City in the middle of the night to catch a 6 am flight to Minneapolis, then from there to Duluth, where my grandparents lived.
I went home, went to sleep, and woke up at midnight to drive the 6 hours to the SLC airport. I caught my flight on time, and transferred planes for my next flight. Everyone was seated on the plane, the pilot announced that they were going to delay the flight a bit due to fog.
Fast-forward about 2 hours, and they ended up cancelling the flight, leaving me stuck in Minneapolis, with no money, nowhere to stay until the next flight out the next day, while my grandfather lay dying 3 hours away. As we were all gathering our carry-ons and getting off the plane, an older couple came up to me and asked me what my plans were.
I briefly explained the situation with my grandfather, and they promptly marched me off the plane, rented a car, and drove me directly to the door of the hospital where my grandpa was staying. They refused to accept anything in exchange for the ride. To this day, I’m very grateful for them; if they had not done what they had, I wouldn’t have been able to see him before he died.
If you know someone who might like this, please click “Share!”