“I’m really sorry about this.”
My flight from Salt Lake City to San Francisco was delayed for almost an hour and God had sent a Mormon to apologize. She didn’t work for the airline — we’d just fallen into conversation and she felt a need to say sorry that my trip to Salt Lake was ending with two hours of pretzels and frustration in the departure lounge of SLC airport.
I told her she didn’t need to apologize. She looked at me like I was an idiot: of course she needed to apologize. (I can sympathize: I’m British and I have the same urge to take responsibility whenever someone treads on my toe.)