OPINION: Don’t underestimate the power of small kindnesses — especially to frugal Alaskans

Some of the best times in life are when a bad thing turns into a good thing. When frustration and disappointment transform into happiness. It’s not magic, though it seems magical. It can happen when someone you don’t even know steps up and does something nice.

I recently flew to Washington, D.C. and, being frugal (which sounds so much better than cheap), took a 53-minute senior-citizen-fare train ride from the suburban airport to the stop closest to my downtown hotel, rather than the more convenient (but 20 times more expensive) taxi.

The Metro train station was almost a mile from the hotel, but I figured I’d easily get a cab. At least I remember downtown D.C. used to be covered in cabs, almost as thick as lobbyists and consultants. Sadly, I discovered that cabs are nearly extinct, so I rolled along toward the hotel.

My suitcase, however, did not roll easily. It seems one of the wheelshad broken somewhere in transit. I struggled to drag the large bag on three wheels, trying to balance it perfectly so that the disabled appendage never touched the sidewalk. But when it did, the bag acted like a lead weight pulling on my arm, grinding on the concrete.

I finally reached the hotel and figured I had two options: Get a physical therapy appointment for my sore arm or buy a new suitcase. Parting with a 15-year-old piece of luggage goes against my frugal nature, but I knew it would be cheaper than PT.

I went to the only department store left standing in D.C. after Amazon and online shopping took over the world, and found the luggage department at Macy’s. Can’t be hard to find a new bag, I figured.

The first hurdle was that there were no price tags on anything. A friendly clerk saw me looking puzzled as I turned over every bag, searching for hidden price stickers. She explained that shoppers needed to carry the items to a tablet mounted on a stand in the center of the section to scan the barcode to get the price. One piece of luggage at a time. The pricing station did not move, only the luggage did.

While I was pricing every bag I could find and blocking the aisle as I stacked them up, the clerk came over and asked: “How soon do you need the luggage?” Seemed an odd question, but I answered that I wouldn’t need it until I repacked to return home in three days. That would be Saturday. She smiled and said, “We’re having a big sale on Friday. Come back then.”

I did — and saved 60% on the suitcase I wanted. Of course, Mr. Frugal was ecstatic. I thanked the clerk profusely and started on my walk back to the hotel, a mile away. The best part of the walk was the ego boost: The large suitcase was empty, but the people I passed on the sidewalk didn’t know that. All they saw was this tall, scrawny guy lifting the almost 3-foot-tall bag over curbs and around obstructions without stress or strain. I thought of carrying it on my head, but that would be showing off.

The clerk had transformed my grumpiness into happiness. Her thoughtfulness didn’t completely renew my hope in the world, but it sure helped. And it reminded me that sometimes we have to wait for the good things in life, like a luggage sale. Maybe if I wait long enough, even national politics will start to look better.

Larry Persily is a longtime Alaska journalist, with breaks for federal, state and municipal public policy work in Alaska and Washington, D.C. He lives in Anchorage and is publisher of the Wrangell Sentinel weekly newspaper.

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