Louise was wishing she was riding her motorcycle instead of sitting in a jam-packed airplane while a youngster threw a Category Ten tantrum and refused to get into his seat. His mother threatened and pleaded and was herself nearly in tears—all in vain. The kid kicked and hollered until everyone in the plane was upset.
All of a sudden, an elderly gentleman in an Air Force uniform strode past Louise to the screaming boy. He bent down, looked the boy in the eye, pointed to his own chest, and whispered something in the lad’s ear.
The boy immediately stopped screaming, got in his seat, and fastened his seatbelt.
When the gentleman was passing Louise’s seat, she stopped him. “What did you say to that boy?” she asked.
The man gestured at his general’s stars, his pilot’s wings, and his many, many medals. “I have children and grandchildren, so I know that sometimes a mother needs help. I showed him these medals and wings and stars and told him they entitled me to throw one passenger out of the airplane door any time I chose.”
