“Are you two catching the next flight to San Francisco?” We both looked up simultaneously to the uniformed man standing before us. “If so, it’ll be awhile before the ticket agent opens up so I can check your luggage curbside,” he continued with a grin, “if you’d like.” There was something strangely familiar about this middle-aged man who approached us in the open-air terminal. His thinning hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and dimpled chin caught me searching my mind in general recognition.
We knew we had arrived a couple hours before our flight’s departure, but that’s just the way we travel. Early birds. No last minute dashing for us, if we can avoid it. Since we’d already cleared customs and the bags were sealed, we nodded as he rolled the overloaded suitcases toward his portable station. A few minutes later the porter, who’s badge said “Harold”, became the bearer of bad news. He scratched his head and offered a half-smile. “You’re about 15-20 pounds over on each bag”, he apologized. “So I can’t issue you a tag.” Again, we nodded in the affirmative. This wasn’t news to us. In fact, when we weighed the luggage earlier, I remember thinking: “Note to Self—Just because the suitcase holds a lot doesn’t mean we have to fill it.”
Meanwhile, as I searched my mind for recollections of this perfect stranger, Harold began storytelling as if we were kindred spirits. He’d been in this job only a couple of years, but overall enjoyed the interaction with travelers. “Most of the time,” he said with a laugh. “Every once-in-awhile you run into some pretty rude characters. I’m just here to help, ya know. But sometimes they seem pretty determined to put me in my place.” After a couple minutes, he offered us a Wal-Mart tote so we could redistribute the contents of our luggage with a carry-on. He was still trying to save us unnecessary airline charges. What a kind man. I thanked him wholeheartedly when he shrugged his shoulders helplessly and returned to his post. Minutes later as we headed to Gate 2A, it finally occurred to me why Harold seemed familiar. He had a strong resemblance to my father-in-law who had passed away over a decade ago. In fond remembrance, a warm feeling of comfort rushed over me. Two of a Kind.
snapshotsincursive 
Lovely story.
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Hi Snapshotincursive They do say we do have doubles in this world nice. Thank you for liking my poem An Alien Landing! Best Wishes. The Foureyed Poet.
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I appreciate your time and insight. Thank you.
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