The Hans Treatment
Hans arrived on a late flight today, a cute older Swiss man who wore a fuzzy cardigan. I couldn't help but be charmed by him.
Diligent as ever, I'd noticed his coming arrival, and met him at the gate. He'd been flying for more than 12 hours, Geneva to New York, then New York to Cleveland. Here he missed his connection to Phoenix. I met him and his party at the gate, introduced myself, and gave them their options: spend the night in Cleveland, a good nights sleep and a fresh start in the morning or fly to Las Vegas and make another connection, finally arriving in Phoenix beyond 1am, some 24 hours after they'd started their day.
He asked me if I'd give him a moment, so he could check with his travel companions. "Take your time" I said.
They decided that they best get a good nights sleep. I agreed. "Welcome to Cleveland Hans!" There were a few logistics to take care of, hotel voucher, shuttle information, all that airport stuff. I'd offered to escort he and his family down to the shuttle.
Hans noticed my family name, not uncommon in Austria-Czech, we chatted a bit about the violin player and the figure skaters that share my name. I then mentioned his name, and that I'd named my son Hans. This brought a smile to his face.
A few moments later, as we parted, he handed me a couple of Swiss chocolate bars ... thanking me for the Hans Treatment.
Diligent as ever, I'd noticed his coming arrival, and met him at the gate. He'd been flying for more than 12 hours, Geneva to New York, then New York to Cleveland. Here he missed his connection to Phoenix. I met him and his party at the gate, introduced myself, and gave them their options: spend the night in Cleveland, a good nights sleep and a fresh start in the morning or fly to Las Vegas and make another connection, finally arriving in Phoenix beyond 1am, some 24 hours after they'd started their day.
He asked me if I'd give him a moment, so he could check with his travel companions. "Take your time" I said.
They decided that they best get a good nights sleep. I agreed. "Welcome to Cleveland Hans!" There were a few logistics to take care of, hotel voucher, shuttle information, all that airport stuff. I'd offered to escort he and his family down to the shuttle.
Hans noticed my family name, not uncommon in Austria-Czech, we chatted a bit about the violin player and the figure skaters that share my name. I then mentioned his name, and that I'd named my son Hans. This brought a smile to his face.
A few moments later, as we parted, he handed me a couple of Swiss chocolate bars ... thanking me for the Hans Treatment.
posted by justinian at 6:28 PM
3 Comments:
Glad you found a reason to smile today :)
That's lovely!
we should trademark that phrase..."the hans treatment"....i like the idea of hans becoming a luxury brand. maybe we could talk to someone about the bible, too - instead of "the golden rule" it could be "the hans treatment".
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