I’m sitting on the tarmac at LAX, where my flight to SFO has been delayed for the last four hours. The mood on board is dark. The snacks ran out a long time ago, dozens of connections have already been missed, and no one will tell us why we can’t go back to the gate. The man sitting next to me is quivering with rage and frustration. “This airline is the worst,” he said. “The absolute worst.” The flight attendants can hear him, and for their part, do not seem to disagree. I’ve been here before, many times, and learned the key to remaining sane in these situations is to close my eyes and think of something positive. Which is why I’m thinking about Officer Tina.
Officer Tina was on her way to meet me for coffee on the top floor of The Huntley Hotel. when she encountered a young woman in the elevator, dressed like she was going to the prom. She and her mother were visiting from Memphis and celebrating her sixteenth birthday with a visit to Universal Studios. Officer Tina welcomed them to the town she was sworn to serve and protect, complimented the young woman on her outfit, but suggested that high heels might not be the best option for a walking tour at Universal. Then, Officer Tina presented them with a $200 dinner voucher.
Because that’s just the kind of cop Tina is.
Up in the restaurant, Tina and I were joined by the hotel manager, Manju Modi, who showed up with a big bag of Jed’s Jerky. I last wrote about Manju during the LA fires, when she opened her hotel to hundreds of first responders, desperate for a nap and a hot shower, before running back into the inferno. I was there for that particular calamity, and saw Manju serve her devastated community with warmth, compassion, patience, and boundless empathy.
Because that’s just the kind of Innkeeper Manju is.
Which brings me back to that big bag of Jed’s Jerky. Eight years ago, Manju saw a post on this page, wherein I vowed to replace my daily donut fix with a sensible serving of beef jerky. https://bit.ly/4lAUocn As an avowed vegetarian, it must have been difficult for Manju to locate “the world’s best jerky,” but she did, and soon thereafter, a big bag of Jed’s Jerky was always waiting for me upon check in. Over the last eight years, this very thoughtful amenity has turned into a completely out-of-control ritual that’s led to a surplus of dried meat far beyond the capacity for any carnivore to comfortably consume. 
(The brisket is my favorite, but over the years, I’ve enjoyed them all.)
Anyway, Manju had ordered another shipment Jed’s Jerky to coincide with my arrival, but the order did not go through. So, Manju called the current owners of Jed’s Jerky – Dave and Terry Coffee – and asked if there was any way to expedite the delivery. Terry said, “Of course, Manju, I’ll take care of it myself.” So, Terry Coffee hopped in her car and drove to The Huntley Hotel from Yermo, CA. That’s a three-hour drive to keep her customer satisfied.
Because that’s the kind of business owner Terry is.
Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about while I stranded on the tarmac earlier this week – three hardworking women who go above and beyond the call of duty every day, doing whatever they can to make their sliver of the universe a better place. And that’s when the pilot came back on to tell us, for the tenth time in four hours, that we’d be wheels up in another twenty minutes. At which point a young dad several rows behind me yelled, “Bullshit! My kids are hungry! You’ve got to feed us or let us off this f**king plane!!”
Other passengers, equally incensed, echoed a similar sentiment. A high school volleyball team seated in the back of the plane began to chant, “You suck! You suck!” and dozens of other passengers joined in, including the man sitting next to me, who only paused a moment to say, “Hey, what if we just open the emergency exit, slide down the chute, and run for the terminal? I mean, how are they gonna stop us?”
And that’s when I remembered the big bag of Jed’s Jerky stowed in the carryon over my head, bulging with multiple packets of delicious meat in a rich variety of flavors. I retrieved the sack and handed it to the flight attendant.
“Here,” I said. “Pass it around. It’s the world’s best jerky.”
When she came back, the burlap sack was empty, and the insurrection delayed. And twenty minutes later, when we were finally airborne, people came over to thank me. The angry dad said it 
was the best jerky he’d ever had and asked for a selfie. I said sure. The lady across the aisle agreed and asked if I’d autograph her barf bag for her son, who worked in sanitation. I said fine. And the man sitting next to me wanted to know who Jed was, and why is jerky is so damn delicious.
“I’ve never met Jed,” I said. “And I’m sorry to tell you that he died earlier this year. But his legacy is alive and well, thanks to a woman named Terry Coffee who drove 150 miles yesterday morning to hand-deliver a sack of meat to an avowed vegetarian who feels compelled, for whatever reason, to make sure the Dirty Jobs Guy doesn’t start eating donuts again.”
“The man looked confused, understandably, but said, “Well, please tell Terry Coffee that everyone on the plane appreciates the effort. The brisket is amazing.”
“I’ll let her know,” I said. “I don’t have her phone number, but I know she follows me online, so I’ll express your gratitude there, and make sure people know the “world’s best jerky” can be found at jedsjerky.com.
Because that’s just the kind of carnivore I am…