Back in the early nineties I worked for a major American airline. Unfortunately, it was one of those that would eventually go down in a sea of red ink. The years it was good though … it was really good.

A major perk of working for an airline then and now is flying for a reduced rate; which is exactly why I had signed on, and why I loved, my job. I was a customer service agent, but probably would have found positives in mopping floors, as long as I could fly.

Surprisingly, after more than a year and dozens of trips, I’d never had a problem getting on a flight … until one cold, snowy January night.

Airline employees fly standby. After all regular passengers are boarded, if there are seats still available, airline staff have a shot at getting on the flight. This had worked well for me until that night when I was bumped from the last seat on the last flight from Atlanta to Boston, by a senior airline employee.

That rare set of circumstances set the stage for an experience that would forever change my thinking on homelessness and the homeless.

It was after midnight before I’d been bumped; tried other flights; given up; and finally, called friends in Boston, with the bad news.

Although there had been some cancelled flights due to the bad weather, there hadn’t been too many, so only a token number of passengers would be spending the night at Hartsfield. That had me a little nervous. I knew there were always homeless people that hung out in bus, railroad and even airline terminals.

On the way into the airport earlier, there had been a few hanging around outside. They were matted with dirt, didn’t exactly have the aroma of a rose garden, and had some of the tell-tale signs of addictions; either to alcohol or drugs.

I always traveled with plenty of singles for tips, and was quite a few bills short by the time I made my way into the airport.

People so obviously suffering always made me feel wretched. I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but in comparison, my cup was running over.

What made me nervous was the aggression I had seen displayed by some beggars at times, therefore being pretty much alone in a huge airline terminal didn’t exactly inspire feelings of security. As tired as I was, I knew I couldn’t stay up until flight time, which is why I felt so vulnerable, and didn’t want to spend the time getting into a hotel, or spendi the money for several hours of sleep.