With a Ukrainian friend today--why Trump and Putin will never "get it" with them
He and I met at a work event in the Ruhr area today, and he said he was leaving early because his young son was having a birthday party this evening in Warsaw, where he lives. There was no convenient direct flight out of here (Düsseldorf airport), so he had a connection through Amsterdam, and then on to Warsaw. He had 90 minutes to make the plane, and the airport was only a 35 minute drive. I live near the airport, and he was looking at a €100 taxi ride, so I offered him a lift to the airport.
Things were looking good until all three lanes on the Autibahn came to a standstill. Poice had set up a barrier halting all traffic. A helicopter appeared, landed on the Autobahn in front of us, and a few ambulances wiggled their way through the traffic to get to the scene of what turned out to be a nasty seven car pile-up.
So, we waited and waited, a frustrating 17 minutes from the airport, but with no way to get there. Finally, the helicopter and ambulances left with whatever victims of the crash they thought they could save, and traffic started flowing again. Being the Autobahn, after all, I abandoned my American driver ed, and drove like a German the rest of the way to the airport. He was frantically checking with KLM to see if by any chance the commuter flight over to Amsterdam was late. It was, but only by seven minutes. As I pulled up to close to the terminal, he grabbed his things and said he'll make a run for it, maybe the security guys would have pity on him. "Not likely," we both agreed, but he said that if he failed to get his plane, so be it, but he would never forgive himself if he didn't try, no matter how hopeless it looked. There were a few cars stopped in front of the last turn-in to the B terminal. He said, "seconds count!" jumped out of my car, grabbed his stuff, and made a mad dash into the Terminal.
Neither of us had much hope, but he was right--not trying is far worse than clinging to a weak hope.
About twelve minutes after he ran from my car, my phone rang. The plane's delay had increased by 2 minutes from seven to nine, and it was just the extra margin he needed. They were just about to close the plane's door when they saw him running toward the gate. The plane's door had already closed by the time he sat down. He called me, out of breath, and just before being told to turn off his phone, but at least he was calling me from his seat in his plane. His son in Warsaw will have Papa at the birthday party after all. He had wanted me to know it, too, since there are few things in this world that could ever induce me to drive like a German--even in Germany.
If either Trump or Putin could clone themselves ten times, and then confront a guy like this, they would still be outnumbered. These people do not give up easily.
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It's really encouraging to know that people like your friend live and thrive under these circumstances.
So glad he made his flight.
