Flight

About a week ago my dad sent me this email.  I have never known my dad to be a writer--before now.  I am blessed that I continue learning from my dad, and I'm beyond honored to post his thoughts below:

Allison,

I am not nearly the blogger that you are nor can I articulate life experiences in to creative prose like you do regularly, but I had a very unique experience on my flight to San Diego last night that made me think of you and how you relate life experiences to what God is trying to tell you.

I had a 5:55pm flight to San Diego from Philadelphia for a “business trip” to visit our office, attend an industry meeting, and play a round of golf at the very prestigious Torre Pines golf club.  I was just slightly disappointed to find out that I was not upgraded to first class as I sometimes am, however, I was #2 on the standby-for-upgrade list should someone cancel.  That put me in a preferred seat/row of 5C.  As the plane was boarding I would study each arriving passenger to determine if they would be taking the center seat next to me.  Both the center and window seat remained unoccupied for an unusually long time.  As the departure time grew near, my thoughts shifted to “good – the middle seat will be open for this long trip making it much more comfortable”.  Just prior to closing the door of the plane, the gate agent accompanied a woman who looked to be perhaps in her 70’s on to the plane.  From first glance I would venture to guess that most people, including myself, pegged her as being homeless by the way she was dressed.  She was African American, very short with 2 wool ski caps on her head.  She wore a down parka, long embroidery type dress/skirts, white sox which were half way up the calf, printed sneakers, and she walked with a stick. Literally an old broom handle type stick.  What struck me about her, however, was that she was very clean and did not smell like a homeless person.  As the gate agent approached, he motioned to me that her seat was the window seat in my row.   He motioned to her to take her seat and said to me, “She does not speak any English”.  As I looked into her face I saw with more detail a woman who appeared to be in the category of a “mountain person”.  I recall from the trip Mom and I took to Morocco that there are people who live isolated in the mountains.  This is what I would have pictured.  The woman could have been on the cover of National Geographic or pictured in a world cultures book.  Her skin was leathery.  She only had a blank stare as if she could not even understand basic hand gestures or non-verbal communication.  What a contrast in worlds which came together on the same row of a plane.  Here I am, pecking away on my handheld electronic device that has me theoretically connected to the world and yet the person right next to me lives in the same world that I cannot connect to.  I cannot even begin to imagine the world that God created for her in comparison the world he created for me.  She was now placed into “my world” by traveling on this plane.   It made me also realize how scary a position this must be for her by not speaking the language – but even beyond that, the fact that she seemingly cannot even gesture to communicate.  With all of the regulations for flying, how is she going to possibly make this trip not knowing about seatbelts or turbulence or complementary beverages or USAIRWAYS Master Cards?……..Then there was a shift in this thinking as she reached over and took me by the hand.  She looked into my eyes.  There was a pause of maybe 4-5 seconds during which time we were both probably wondering in our own unspoken languages, “What is happening?”.  Then she uttered the most universal words known to mankind.  In a very low and very soft voice, while staring right at me with eyes that were from such a far away place….she said, “Pee pee”.  Well, there was no denying her predicament.  The problem was that, in my world, the captain had already ordered the door of the aircraft to be closed, which meant there was no movement allowed in the aircraft until we reached cruising altitude.  We were about to be on an active taxiway and the FAA has very strict rules about cabin movement in this mode of the flight.  How could I communicate this?  Knowing personally that flying with a full bladder is not pleasant, I motioned to the flight attendant that I needed some assistance.  I told her that the woman spoke no English but that it seemed clear to me that she needed to use the restroom.  The flight attendant was very understanding and agreed that the only humane thing to do was to break the rules of the FAA and allow her to proceed to the bathroom while we were on an active taxi-way.  Not only that – she agreed to let her through barrier that separates the first class from the rest of the world (not sure why they really need to do that since you can see right through the curtain).  However, the flight attendant allowed the woman to use the first class lavatory.  Well…what a further contrast in worlds colliding.  Just minutes before the door of the aircraft was closed, a very “normal” looking English speaking traveler was denied access to the first class lavatory and told to go to the rear of the aircraft to use the restroom. 

The flight attendant accompanied the woman to the lavatory and then returned her to her seat.  The attendant  put the seatbelt on for the woman and motioned that she needed to remain seated.  Again, I was wondering if the woman really understood. 

The flight was smooth in the beginning but encountered turbulence about one hour in to the flight.  We were both dozing in and out of sleep and the woman appeared to not be concerned, even though the pilot had to make several announcements about the “rough air” we were experiencing. 

As we made preparations for landing, the plane began to do the “normal” things a plane does when landing.  Noises were different, pitches and rolls were different, and pressure on your ears was different.  Again with no way to reassure or communicate, I had to rely on hand gestures to try and convey that everything is okay.  Just receiving a blank stare from these gestures again made me realize that the worlds we are from are so far apart, yet here we are, in the same place, at the same time.  When the wheels touched down there was once again an opportunity for a communication connection.  Although I have no proof of this statement, it seems that when someone is scared they usually have a similar response.  As the wheels hit the ground, the woman immediately took my arm in hers and grabbed to hold my hand.  I squeezed, as did she, and I clutched our hands with my other hand to hopefully communicate that everything would be okay.  I continued to hold her hand, rough and leathery yet firm, through the entire taxi process.  She did not let go.  Then, as the plane was entering its final turn to match up with the jetway, I motioned to her to open the window shade which had been closed the entire flight.  As she gazed out at the lights and technology she seemed relieved that we have made it.  She gradually released my hand, and we shared another stare. 

The passengers were deplaning, and she seemed content to remain in her seat. I waved goodbye knowing that this chance meeting of our lives would never happen again, but it was at that moment that I was again struck by God’s prompting for a learning moment.  The woman did not return my wave.  That gesture was not familiar to her, and she had no reaction but to stare.   I was about to continue on this journey I began which was now going to take me to high rise hotels, fancy restaurants, posh golf courses and people who knew my language.  Where would she go?  Who would she communicate with?  In what world did she live?  So much to ponder.

The flight attendant assured me that they were watching over her and would accompany her to continue her journey. 

This was a life changing impression for me.  More introspection required.