It was a last-minute deal. I left dirty dishes in the sink, grabbed two flags from the garage and met the husband midtown. I parked my car at a Chili’s (thanks Chili’s) and hopped in his car, and we zipped to the airport.
All week long an Indianapolis radio station had been inviting the public to greet World War II veterans returning from an Honor Flight to visit their memorial in Washington, D.C.
By the time we arrived, a good-size crowd had gathered by lining ropes marking off a pathway from B Concourse into the main terminal. A bagpipe ensemble milled about, and 20-somethings in vintage 1940s clothing lingered by the escalator.