I wandered around the labyrinthine building frustrated, scared, barely keeping a brave face. The man in scrubs noticed me, walked me to my destination, making pleasant conversation and an introduction. Be nice to people you meet in hospitals, I thought. Chances are, they're not happy to be here.

A different day, a different man, walking past the garage arm, where I'd stopped to find a pair of sunglasses with which to press the button for my time card, offered to do it for me, and did. Be nice to people you meet in hospitals, I thought.

Luckily, I wasn't there for any horrid reason. But I dread hospitals (and touching public objects) all the same. Two strangers with concerns of their own took a couple of moments to come to my assistance. And earned my long-time gratitude. And a place in print, such as it is. Be nice to people you meet in hospitals.