Earlier this month I went on an 11-day golfing trip to the southwest coast of Scotland with a group of intrepid island golfers. I am happy to report that we all made it back safely, none the worse for the wear and the steady diet of fish and chips, Scottish soup and Tennent’s lager. More surprisingly, my flights to and from Scotland by way of Iceland all departed right on time and all landed right on time, if not a wee bit early. And each flight was turbulence-free, something I value in a flight almost as much as I value complimentary beverages.

The closest I came to an air travel calamity was when I found myself seated in the window seat next to a robust gentleman in the middle seat wearing gym shorts and a rumpled T-shirt with an array of electronic gizmos spread out on his fold-down tray. Forgive me for being unkind, but my apparent seat-mate for the next seven hours had evidently not had time to shower before the flight and was therefore emitting a swirling vortex of body odor imperfectly masked by liberal application of what I believe was vintage Hai Karate aftershave.

Just after the crew closed the door of the airplane, the woman sitting on the aisle seat in my row had a brief chat with the flight attendant and then got up and moved to an open aisle seat several rows forward. My fragrant seatmate then scooted from the middle seat to the aisle seat of our row, which, for me at least, was further and indisputable proof of the existence of a loving and benevolent God, or at least one who loves golf and hates Hai Karate as much as I do.

I’ve been to Scotland several times over the years, and each time I go I prepare for the trip by boning up on my Scottish history and culture – by which I mean I watch Mel Gibson’s movie Braveheart and listen to the Battlefield Band’s version of “Da Merrie Boys O’ Ballyshannon” and The Tannahill Weavers classic bagpipe rendition of “The Whistlebinkies Reel” until the sound of bagpipes doesn’t make me flinch and I understand 40% of the lyrics of whatever song is being sung. As always, my total immersion approach to kenning Scottish history and culture paid off. I am also happy to report that on this trip I kept my streak intact of not voluntarily eating haggis no matter what it was rolled and deep-fried in and no matter how much Tennents I had consumed.

My biggest concern with this year’s trip to Scotland was a nagging doubt that my golf game was not worthy of taking on the road, particularly on the road to the Home of Golf. I had only played about two or three rounds of golf all year, and in none of them did I threaten the course record – at least not the course record for low score. But the opportunity to go to lovely Scotland and play golf in the company of such an august and distinguished bogey of golfers was impossible to pass up. Besides, at least one mature adult presence on the trip was called for.

Within a very short time of returning home, I realized one other reason I enjoyed the trip so much: the whole time I was in Scotland, I didn’t see one political ad on television and didn’t read a single comment made by any of the candidates for office in the upcoming Presidential election. But within hours of arriving back on the Island, I was subjected to a candidate for the Presidency railing about immigrants snacking on people’s pets and threatening to break down the gates of hell with the skulls of his enemies. (Actually, I just made up that last bit in keeping with the ‘anything goes’ motif of this year’s Presidential election).

Mercifully we are nearing the end of this year’s political campaign, which should come as good news to everyone, particularly pets and pet owners in Springfield, Ohio. I am also mindful of how lucky and fortunate I am to be able to have spent 11 days playing golf in Scotland and enjoying time with good friends while so many of my countrymen and countrywomen have suffered devastating losses from natural disasters like hurricanes, fires and flooding. The defining theme of American exceptionalism used to be that we take care of our own, our own in this case meaning all Americans regardless of race, nationality, gender, religion, or political affiliation. Whatever the outcome of the coming election, here’s hoping that we find our way back to that standard.

Tom Tyner of Bainbridge Island writes a weekly humor column for this newspaper.