Coincidence or karma? You decide.

We just visited beautiful Napa. The weather was perfect, especially in light of the fact that the weather was so bad at home, the companionship great (second son and wife), and the wines... well, it was Napa after all. We rented a house through Vacation Rental by Owner and stayed within walking distance of downtown. Each morning, we walked to the river, got a cup of coffee from the local watering hole, and came back another way.

Our "other way" was First Avenue. One section held beautifully restored older homes, most of which seemed to be bed and breakfasts. There was one in particular with a bay area which overlooked the front lawn and the street. There were people having breakfast while we were walking by. We looked in; they looked out. They seemed to be of an age to us and one woman had lovely short blonde hair.

When you fly Southwest Airlines into Dallas Love Field, you have to, thanks (or not) to the Wright Amendment, make a plane-pit stop somewhere. Our "somewhere" was Austin. The plane basically unloads, the passengers remaining stretch, potty, or change locations, and then within twenty minutes all the new passengers are on, and when flying from Austin to Dallas, you barely have time to get your peanuts and beverage.

What you do have time to do is acquaint yourselves with the lady who thought the two of you were safe enough to sit with. She's very lovely and blonde and of an age to us. She's a nurse, lives in Dallas, has been in Austin on business. It was quite a rushed trip because, after all, she and the husband had just returned the night before from an anniversary trip to Napa. There, they'd stayed in a beautiful B&B. One with a bay window for eating breakfast. Where, because she said I looked familiar, they'd been looking out as we'd been looking in.

Cue Twilight Zone. She even knew what I was wearing.

What's that you're reading, sir?

The man at the airport sitting across from us in the Southwest waiting area, the man beyond the first years of his 50s, the man alone, has his nose buried in an Iris Johannson novel. He's turning pages rapidly. I think the book was Silent Thunder. (But I don't snoop.) Should I tell him Iris started as a romance author? What would he say?

I didn't say a word. Perhaps he knows and doesn't care. I'm just glad to see him expanding the horizons of male readers everywhere.

Scrabbling... and a note from Southwest Airlines

Not being able to pass up a bargain Scrabble game at a garage sale, I'm in possession of several. Rather than keep them in the closet ("Mega-Scrabble, anyone? Let's put three sets together!"), I decided to make a family crossword puzzle for the wall, maybe in the kitchen.

The problem comes in the dearth of appropriate letters. Those letters which cause sighs of regret when fetched in the game, like a K, take on real significance when several members of the family have names which need them: Kay, Sisk, Jack. As to the Ys--family, Casey, Kay, Mary, Emily--well, in short order, I needed more!

The probability of coming across cheap games is small, so I turned to that steady supplier of Americana, eBay. Sure enough, tiles abound. And not just sets of 100. No, I am currently the winner of 384, with free shipping. I just hope the set minus the 16 isn't minus the ones I need. But then, I didn't ask for an inventory, so my fault.

As to the luggage incident with Southwest which I blogged about on Tuesday, I received a very nice email from them, thanking me for my consideration in writing. No, Southwest, thank you for having an employee who cared.

It takes a village...

... or at least everyone sitting at the airport gate.

But to begin at the beginning:

Saturday morning we're flying out of Love Field to LAX via Southwest Airlines. The Wright Amendment being what it is, we will have to stop along the way (Austin going, El Paso coming back), but we love the ease of Love and we'll be there if we can. So we're sitting at the gate, 'A' boarding passes in hand, watching the people and the staff and occasionally, the activity outdoors. As in, when will our plane get here (it started in Amarillo) and gee, did a piece of luggage just go flying off that baggage cart?

Yes, indeed-y. There, laying in the middle of the tarmac is a red suitcase. I had watched it fly off the back of the second baggage cart as the baggage guy had zoomed out of the building and headed toward the appropriate plane, somewhere in the ether. Another modified go-kart zips by... and he doesn't stop and get it!

Now, I have the attention of the lady standing next to me. We exchange looks and she hustles over to the check-in desk where two employees are chatting. Hearing the situation, one of them says, "I'll get it!" and he scrambles off. Minutes later, we watch him retrieve it, read it, pick up a bit of debris on the tarmac, and hustle off to deliver the bag. Minute later, he's back and someone's vacation has been saved an added layer of frustration.

On second thought, maybe I just ought to write a letter to Southwest and let them know the caliber of their employees (at least one of them) is not overstated.