After four trips out to the interstate, to stand and wave to highway traffic, I'm still finding this entertaining. This morning scores of veterans, mostly from the Korean and Vietnam war eras, met up in Loveland, to board four buses. With a gigantic escort of police vehicles from all around the region and a mass of motorcycle outriders to clear the path (i.e. block on-ramps until the buses were past), they rolled sedately to Denver International Airport, on their way to an all-expense paid, whirlwind trip to Washington DC, to tour the war memorials. I don't know whether other locations for Honor Flights do the same thing we do, but here all of the first responders they can spare in the area, plus as many local citizens who know to turn up, line the route and wave flags and cheer. I thought maybe doing this once or twice would be enough to bring me to say "been there, done that." I have not found that to be the case. Each time feels different, and so far I'm only getting more interested in going back, not less.
Last week at Rotary, my friend who goes on these tours as a guide twice a year was talking about one of "her" veterans. His Honor Flight experience exemplifies the experience they hope to give to these folks. He was 92 when he went, and he was incredibly moved to be treated like a hero, as a member of an elite group whose sacrifices were honored. Until his death at 93, he spoke of his trip nearly every day. His family contacted my friend through the Honor Flight organization, to thank her for making the last six months of their father's life so special.
In May I took several wrong turns trying to find the correct country roads that would lead to the right place on the I-25 frontage road. I got us lost and late, and we ended up arguing and watching the buses go by from the wrong side of the interstate (long story) in tense silence. This time I stuck with larger roads on the circuitous but simpler route. We pulled up at 8:40 this morning, when the lineup started at 8:30. I thought we still had a ton of time to wait, and I parked way at the north end, thinking that many more cars would join us. There was a couple by an SUV to our south, maybe three car lengths away, and the rest of the crowd was equally farther south from them. I could only see our flag and theirs, and then the big one on a crane where most of the people gathered. A lady who had just worked a night shift rolled slowly down the frontage road, and stopped to ask me what was going on. I told her the Honor Flight group was due in several minutes, and asked her to stick around. She said what the hell, I'll sleep when I'm dead, and she pulled in near my car. "Several minutes" turned out to be more like 45 seconds, because the motorcycle outriders showed up as soon as she stopped her car. Mr S-P had our flag wedged in the guard rail, and he stood next to it, while I stood just up from him, grinning and waving like a fool. I felt a little exposed, to be the very first flag in the row, the one most visible to all of the buses and escorts. But this wasn't a day for shyness.
I hope all of those veterans are having the time of their lives today and tomorrow. They took all-expense-paid trips to Korea and Vietnam for us. Let's hope that this trip is much better than the others.
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