I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
Once we were all seated, Dad buckled his seat belt.
Then he leaned slightly toward me.
In Spanish, he said, “You know, I preferred your plan.”
I turned. “What plan?”
“The one where you waited.”
“I didn’t have a plan.”
He waved a hand.
“Well, the plan unfolded by itself then.”
I laughed.
The man stared straight ahead.
Dad continued in Spanish. “My plan was better.”
“What was yours?”
Dad thought for a second.
Then he switched to English.
Perfectly understandable English.
“I was going to yell at him.”
I laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth.
The man closed his eyes.
Dad looked pleased with himself.
Then he turned back to me and returned to Spanish.
“I wanted him to know I understood enough too.”
“You are acting 12.”
“I am 71.”
“Emotionally, 12.”
He nodded. “Fair.”
The plane took off.
For the first hour, none of us spoke.
