California Health Insurance Agent Matt Lockard offers Patriot T.R.I.P. insurance coverage in the event of the unthinkable.
Stanford R. Doe and his wife Jane were about to board the plane, Southwest Flight 6754, at Gate 3 in LAX when they heard the news. Up until that tense moment, they’d figured that buying T.R.I.P. insurance had been one of those purchases performed out of prudence in case of the unthinkable. But in that instant, they knew.
“Mr. and Mrs. Doe wait!” the urgent voice had shouted.
Because of what had happened, the couple had no choice. They walked as if in a daze, but unassisted to the airlines ticket counter to cancel their flight to Tunisia, where Stanford and Jane had long dreamt of celebrating their second honeymoon, although their first one had occurred a mere six months earlier.
They drove the rental to inspect the ruins. A gas explosion had gutted their home and all their belongings. They stopped the rental, a Rambler station wagon, in front of what had been their front yard. “All that grass seed wasted,” Stanford told his grieving wife with tears pouring down his cheeks, “and the automatic sprinkler system, it’s b-broken,” he sobbed, his voice choked by emotion and by the odor of charred dandelions in the fetid air.
“What will the neighbors think?” Jane cried out, as if she were a wounded self-conscious beast without a split-level, which she now was.
They still had a cell phone that worked. It was purple, a sad color. She put in a call to homeless child she’d so suddenly become in her now infantile mind. He’d been expecting
a call from the forlorn Does, after reading about the explosion in yesterday’s news. Hearing Matt answer, all she could do was sob into the receiver.
“It’s activated. Don’t worry about your trip cancellation. You have full Patriot T.R.I.P. coverage. You and Stanford wouldn’t have enjoyed Tunisia under these circumstances. The travel agent will understand about losing his commission. He won’t be angry at you for canceling,” Matt spoke softly into the phone, realizing that a couple’s dreams had been shattered, both in the sense of where they were going, and where they’d been. But at least T.R.I.P. had saved them from what might have added insult to their injury.
“Thank you so much Matt,” Jane managed to blurt.
“Just doing my job as a California Health Insurance agent,” he replied self-effacingly. “I reacted instinctively when I sold you that policy. It’s what I do.” California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard, as if to be reassured like the small