As I recall, it was Hawkeye on the television show M*A*S*H, that said, “It’s nice to be nice to the nice.”  I laughed when I first heard his statement, but I have never forgotten it, and experience has taught me that, although it should never be the primary reason governing one’s behavior, being “nice” can pay big dividends.  I was witness to such an event a few weeks ago. While vacationing in Las Vegas at the Treasure Island hotel, my husband, Scott, and I tried to obtain tickets for their stage show “Cirque du Soleil.”  We were told that the tickets were all sold out, but that we might want to come and wait an hour before the performance, since many people who have reservations fail to show.  We had seen the performance before, but my husband’s boss and his wife, who were with us, had not.  Although our traveling companions told us not to worry about getting tickets on their behalf, we knew how much they would enjoy this fabulous production.

We arrived at the ticket line an hour and fifteen minutes before show time, but there was already a long line.  We took heart, however, when the reservation clerk told us that the night before around one hundred tickets had been turned back in.

While Scott waited in line, the other three of us wandered back and forth between the line and the hotel gift shops.  When the time came close for the show to begin, we hung around to see how Scott was progressing.  Many people in front of him had been called to the counter and had gone away with tickets in their hands and smiles on their faces, but when it was Scott’s turn he was told there were only two tickets left and they were way at the back.  The reservation clerk went on to say that Scott could wait there if he wanted and perhaps two more tickets would be relinquished.

Scott had been visiting with people around him in line.  He told the clerk that since we had already seen the show and the people next in line had not, he wanted them to have the tickets.  The clerk looked at him strangely and then said, “Stand over there.”  After the people next in line paid for the two tickets, the clerk called Scott back to the counter.  Without any explanation, she handed Scott four tickets.

We were still puzzling over our luck when we walked into the theater.  The usher studied us with squinted eyes and asked, “Who do you know?  These are Steve Winn’s tickets.”  Steve Winn is the owner of the multi-million dollar hotel and the tickets were the best in the house.  I guess we will never know the full story of the tickets--why they became available, why they were offered to us, but I’d like to think it had something to do with Scott being nice.

I usually try to be nice too, but sometimes I slip up, like the time I raced a car to the last remaining stall in the parking lot, only to learn minutes later that I had beat my boss’s elderly parents to the last close parking spot.  I still feel bad about that and am now more cautious about who I race to parking stalls.  I have learned, however, that lessons on nice can be learned from experiences that are not.  This is what happened to me.

To say that Hector needed help with his interpersonal skills was like saying the eruption of Mount St. Helens was a  puff of dust.  As a neighbor to us in a small housing development in the canyon, we never knew if he were going to be friendly because he wanted to borrow something, or grouchy because we had done something he disliked, previously unknown to us.

Nevertheless, Hector was Hector and we all tried to get along with him, for we knew that any alternative would be even more unpleasant.  Most mornings as I drove passed his house on my way to work, I would see him.  I waved as neighbors do, but he would just stare at me for a moment, then turn and climb into his truck without so much as a nod.

Oh well, I reasoned as weeks turned into months, a wave is cheap.  I just kept on waving and he kept on ignoring. One snowy morning, however, I decided that I was in no mood to be friendly to someone who was just as disagreeable as the weather.  I drove straight passed him with my nose in the air.  I felt a little tremor of triumph as I proceeded cautiously down the slippery canyon road.

Normally I could relax a little after I left the canyon, but that day the roads were still snow-covered and slick heading into town.  I came to a stop sign that guarded the entrance to a through street that was on a slight hill.  I touched my brakes and experienced a horrible, helpless feeling as I kept right on going.  I was headed for another car that was tobogganing down the hill.  I knew the other car would never be able to stop for me, so I tried to direct my skid in another direction—any direction.  I cramped the wheel and my Honda made a sloppy half circle to the left, narrowly missing the other car.  The driver, whose wide eyes probably matched my own, had tried to stop but couldn’t and had continued on down the road.

Although I was relieved that I had avoided an accident, I was a little concerned at what I was to do then.  My car sat in the middle of someone’s snow-covered front lawn.  Just as I was struggling from my Honda to check out my pushing muscles, Hector’s truck rounded the curve.  I expected him to drive on by, but he didn’t.  He climbed out of his truck, trudged to the front of my Honda, motioned for me to put my car in reverse, and by throwing his bulk against the fender, pushed my car back out onto the road.  Then without so much as a hello, good-bye, or even a wave, he climbed back into his truck and was gone.  After he left, I sat on the side of the snowy road for a moment.  I couldn’t have felt more sheepish had I grown wool and bleated.

 I’d like to say that Hector and I became fast friends after our wintery encounter, but that was not to be.  I will say, however, that I always make sure to wave whenever I see him and he …, well, he still ignores me, but that’s okay.  It never hurts to be nice, in fact, I have learned of late, it’s much nicer to be nice, not only to the nice, but to everyone.

We used to enjoy the Mirage and Treasure Island when Steve Winn owned them because they were family oriented, but since he sold them, we feel they have lost their charm.