We were nearly at the front of the security line when Dad struggled to put his passport back inside his jacket. It took only a few seconds, but the man behind us had clearly lost his patience. He wore an expensive gray suit and carried a leather bag. Without saying anything, he pushed past me and knocked Dad sideways with his shoulder. I caught my father’s arm just before he could lose his balance.

“Excuse me!” I shouted. “You just pushed my father!”

The man didn’t even turn around. He handed his identification to the security agent and continued as though nothing had happened. Dad gently squeezed my wrist. “It’s fine, sweetheart,” he whispered. But I was furious. An eighty-one-year-old man had nearly been knocked to the floor, and this stranger couldn’t even offer an apology. I looked at Dad, expecting him to be just as angry, but he seemed more embarrassed by the attention than upset by the man’s behavior. He quietly asked me to leave it alone.