This one took me totally by surprise, and I was not even thinking about it when it happened. It was a busy holiday weekend, Thanksgiving to be exact, and the airport was mobbed with people. Waiting in the terminal, the airline announced that they had oversold tickets, and that they were looking for volunteers to fly out tomorrow. I had to be back at work, but they were offering a $250 credit towards a future ticket, as well as first class airfare for the following day.

I jumped up and turned in my ticket. I noticed a group of people all waiting to fly stand-by, and I graciously turned in my ticket, taking the credit for a future flight somewhere. I noticed a young girl crying by herself, standing away from the counter, and I checked to make sure that she was all right. She was flying home herself, and her grandparents had dropped her off at the terminal. She had arrived late, and there were no more seats available. She was given a ticket for the next day, but she was worried because she had no way of contacting her grandparents.

"Well, you can call ahead and tell your parents," I assured her, "Just take the flight tomorrow."

"But what about tonight?" she whined to me, the tears streaming down her face. "My grandparents live like two hours from the airport. No way they can come get me and then get me back in time for my flight." I stood there listening to her, my eyes beginning to take in her body.

She was what I would call a "granola" type. She was lanky and tall, with dirty blonde hair that hung about her shoulders. She had on an old sweater, and a loose pair of jeans. She was going through that late high school :"dead head stage," and she was dressed to play the role. She was thin with a cute face. I continued to comfort her.

"Listen, a lot of people got bumped from this flight, including me," I lied to her, trying to win over her trust. "Let me check with the desk and see if they can put us up in a motel somewhere. The airlines usually have blocks of rooms set aside for just this reason." This seemed to comfort her a little, but she was still visibly shaken and nervous. I went over to the desk to ask, and the woman informed me that it was our responsibility to get a room. I had figured as much, but I wanted to make it look good for the kid.

"My name is David," I told the young girl, "And they will not put us up in a hotel. Don't worry about it, I can help you find a motel for yourself." She started to cry again, and this time I put an arm around her shoulder.

"I don't have any money!" she sobbed to me, turning to bury her face in my shoulder. "I am stuck in the airport. Ever the diplomat, I offered her a solution.

"Come on downstairs to the baggage claim area, and I will help you find a cheap room," I told her, my arm hugging her tight to me. "Your folks can pat me back when we arrive in Miami tomorrow. Don't worry about it."

"You would do that for me?" she asked, looking up at me with large, wet eyes, "Really?".....(cont)