PAGE THREE Random Acts

The mystery of a man named Milt, who surfaced in a moment of need and then wasn't to be found later, unfolds below.

An Angel at the Airport

Heading for an early morning flight to Wisconsin, I parked my husband's car in the economy lot at Dulles International Airport. He needed our minivan to ferry the kids and their friends to school and birthday parties. After I boarded the bus to the terminal, my heart sank when I discovered that I had both sets of keys to our minivan in my purse.

I went to baggage claim in hopes of seeing a familiar face from Potomac who could deliver the keys to my house. Looking back, I realize the remote possibility here, but I guess growing up in a smaller Wisconsin town I always anticipate running into someone I might know. At 6 a.m. the baggage claim was completely empty. I stood looking at my keys, pondering what to do next. Despite the cost, I considered giving them to a cabdriver to take to my home.

At this point, I heard someone ask, "May I help you?" I turned around and saw a man who said his name was Milt in the tourist information booth located to the left of the escalator. I told him I didn't think so, that I was in quite a predicament. He replied: "Tell me. I'm pretty good at problems." I explained my situation. Without a moment of hesitation, he asked me to give him my keys. He explained that he got off work at 8 a.m. and would gladly take the keys to my husband. I asked if he lived in Potomac. He told that me he lived in Herndon but that it would not be a problem. I gave him my keys along with my address. I attempted to give him driving directions, but he stopped me. He told me he had GPS, then said, "Go and don't worry about this anymore."

With a complete sense of calm, I proceeded to go through security. I called my husband and explained my encounter with Milt. By 8:30 that morning, Milt had given my husband our minivan keys. When I returned from Wisconsin, I went down to tourist information to get Milt's address. I had bought him a gift package of cheese during my trip to Wisconsin. To my surprise, the individual in the tourist information booth said he didn't have a record of anyone by the name of Milt working in that booth.

I am in the process of moving from the D.C. area. In looking back, I have met, loved and will miss countless numbers of wonderful acquaintances, friends and co-workers. But Milt is in a league of his own. I will always consider him my special angel.

-- Vicki Ralph, Potomac

But 70 Years Young

Approaching my 70th birthday but still regarding myself somewhere between 21 and 28 years of age in my head, I had a rude awakening while riding Metro's crowded Red Line one recent rush hour.

I caught the eye of an attractive young lady (probably in her 30s). We exchanged smiles.

Then she stood, offering me her seat. With her gracious gesture of kindness, reality eclipsed fantasy, and my 70 years clicked into focus.

-- Bob Gray, Bethesda