I was at JFK airport again the other day—the fifth time this month—and despite really needing to get to my destination, my flight got canceled. It happens. Weather in NYC, massive delays, etc. But it being the second flight in a month to be canceled had me feeling a little singled out.
We all lined up at the gate to talk to the agent about getting re-routed. We’re all irritated since all of us are likely going to miss something important to us as a result.
One by one, we all get taken care of. Finally, I’m the next guy in line at the gate. But the guy in front of me is taking FOREVER. Literally needed almost 20 minutes. Everyone else was out of there in 2-4 minutes. What was the deal with this guy? The gate agent was the same, presumably just as fast as she was with everyone else. Did he not have his info ready? Was he not being decisive? Copping attitude? I could tell he was old from standing behind him–maybe this was only his 3rd time flying? (“And why does this only seem to be happening to me again?” I thought.)
Every paranoid, angry, stereotyping judgmental thought went through my mind. And I leveled them all at this guy in my head. My thought was: how can this guy think his flight to Des Moines or wherever is more important than ours? Is he quibbling over which seat he gets? Asking for free champagne?
I managed to keep my mouth shut. Barely.
Something wiser in me told me that maybe, just maybe there was a reason. (I kinda cynically doubted it.)
In another few minutes, he walked away with his re-routed tickets, and I resisted giving him the eye.
Anyway, soon my flight was re-routed too, and I grabbed lunch at the closest restaurant bar. There was an open seat next to me, and 10 minutes later, a guy came up and asked if he could sit there
Sure enough, it was the guy who was in front of me in line.
I could see now: he was probably 80, and really worn out by the day’s events.
“Yeah, seat’s open. Grab it while you can,” I said, hoping to start a new karmic chapter.
He was grateful. I moved my bags out of the way so he could take a seat. “You were on that flight to Atlanta that just got canceled, right?” I asked.
“Yep, at least I was.”
“Was Atlanta your final destination?”
“Nope,” he said, “I’m on my way to Phoenix, Arizona.” This is where I almost fell to my knees: “Unfortunately, my oldest son just died, and his funeral is tomorrow.”
My jaw hit the floor.
I thanked my lucky stars I somehow resisted complaining about the extra time the guy took.
He went on to tell me about how much money he spent on buying the flight because his son only passed two days before. I wasn’t really listening.
All I could think was: What an unfathomably awful, horrible, selfish person I am forever resenting this poor guy. If they ever have an Asshole Olympics™, I should be awarded a Lifetime Achievement Gold Medal for all the resentful things I felt about this poor guy just 20 minutes earlier.
Here he was, 87 years old, I would soon find out, and his on his way to bury his 60-year-old son who’d just passed from cancer. His whole situation was a heartbreaking tragedy, and I was busy resenting him for taking up an extra 10 minutes of my time.
Once again, I was instantly grateful I never said a damn thing while angrily standing in line behind him.
I wanted to prove to the universe how sorry I was, so I went into full karmic redemption mode.
I placed my hand on his shoulder, said how truly sorry I was to hear about his son. After a pause, I offered up, “I’m sure you were a great father to him.” He nodded and appreciated it. Then I asked, “Wait, going through Atlanta to Arizona? Not exactly a direct flight.” He explained that’s all that was available when he booked it last minute (for $2200). Now he was possibly going to miss his own son’s funeral. As if this guy hadn’t had enough bad luck already.
So I asked him if there was anything I could do. He said, “Well, I’ve gotta let my family know my flight is delayed, I guess. I just got this new iPhone and I don’t have any idea how to use it.”
He pulled out what I instantly recognized as a new iPhone 8-plus.
Thank GOD I know my way inside and out around an iPhone and could be of service to this man.
I spent the next 30 minutes teaching him his way around this modern-day minefield, showing him the brave new world of “apps” and “texting” and even getting him up to speed on Siri and the convenience of sending audio messages. He struggled with a few things like adding punctuation, but for the first time since I’d met him, there was now a smile on his face. As I showed him each new subtly confusing 5-step process by using his iPhone, I gave him similar iPhone advice I’d given my parents: “You’re learning a new language here. Don’t be surprised if you find it frustrating. It’s going to be. But you’ll get it. Just stick with it, and ask for as many tips as you can. You’ll get there.” Minutes later he was getting texts back from his other family members.
“Holy cow!” he said. “Just like that? They can reply that fast?” He was so adorably old school, I wanted to hug him.
After a few more texts with his family, he said to me the five words that will stay with me for the rest of my life:
“You’re the only nice thing that’s happened to me today.”
Yes. Me. The guy who was silently resenting him just 40 minutes earlier.
I nearly started goddamn tearing up at the bar.
Thank God something deeper in me knew to not let my petty, pathetic, selfish side get the best of me and ask him to “hurry it up” or something that would have only made this poor man’s awful day even worse.
We went on to talk for another hour or so, where I asked him more about his life (he has two other kids who’ll be at the funeral), and his background, and we even talked about politics for a while, and while we don’t 100% agree, I learned a lot by allowing myself to see things from his view of the world.
The lesson I learned was this: the next time someone’s actions are pissing you off, just think for a second that maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason for it. Maybe they’re going through something so much more unfathomably awful than you are that they’re perfectly entitled to an extra 5 or 10 minutes. Because sooner or later you’ll be in that situation, too, and if some piss-ant punk behind you is telling you to hurry up, you might just give up faith in humanity.
This is why it’s so important we don’t act on that impulsive side of us that thinks “I’m getting screwed, here.” It’s exactly in those moments when we need to think, “Maybe, it’s actually not so bad for me here. Maybe someone else is getting screwed way harder than me right now.”
This is especially true in airports. While most of us might just be traveling to a fun trip to the beach, or a high school reunion or wedding, an unfortunately large number of us are in airports because something tragic just happened to us. We lost a father. Or a friend. Or God forbid a son.
There we are, in the midst of people who are off to party at Spring Break. That disparity can be infuriating.
So let’s all remember the next time we’re at the airport (or the Post Office, or grocery store, or DMV), there are people all around us probably going through something utterly horrendous. They are barely getting through. Since we can’t know which ones are which, let’s just try to be damn forgiving and understanding of all of them.
Whatever frustration we’re going through on a particular day, let’s all remember: Someone else is going through a lot worse.
One day, that person will be us, so let’s all start paying it forward.
Maybe on our future “awful day” there’ll be someone there who’s able to show us their better side, too.
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The post Everything I Needed to Know About Kindness I Learned at JFK appeared first on The Good Men Project.