I Knew Him, Horatio...

My roommate, Steve, is going home.
The good news is that he made it this far, and that he's going home of his own volition. One of the first things I found out about him when I met him, aside from that he's an upright citizen and an all around guy, was that he was happily married. I wondered how that would play out against a backdrop of living in a randomly chosen distant city and never being around. Well, apparently, he and the wife have been in talks about this, and he's decided to be a family man and eschew the romance of cleaning dirty diapers out of seatback pockets. I'm glad to see the look of relief on him because he knows he's definitely doing the right thing, but on the other hand, he worked really hard to make it to this point, probably harder than any of us, and he knows that too. But it's like that guy said, all's well that turns out OK.
So in my book, he's an honorary flight attendant. I'd be proud to have him in charge of my burning plane any day, and I'll raise a beer to that. Or a Shirley Temple, actually, because he's Mormon.