Canceled Flights, Uber Rides, Handkerchiefs, Grandfathers...

... and Thanksgiving Blessings

My business trip wasn’t starting well.

I was headed to Saudi Arabia for a week of teaching and meetings when my phone vibrated with a text: “Your flight has been delayed by 45 minutes due to a mechanical issue.”

Uh, oh.

I was sitting at the airport 60 minutes before my plane was scheduled to depart. My body stiffened. One never knows what a message like that is going to mean. Will the flight be delayed further? Will it get canceled?

When you are a frequent flyer you know these texts aren’t good.

We boarded the plane a bit late, pushed back from the gate, and it seemed like all would be fine. I’d be slightly delayed in my journey, but no big deal. I had enough time to make my connection.

But the plane didn’t start taxiing after we pushed back. About five minutes later the pilot got on the loudspeaker and shared that we had to go back to the gate due to a new mechanical problem. After 20 minutes they finally got a tow-vehicle to bring us back to the terminal.

Uh, oh.

“I might miss my second flight,” was all I could think. Time ticked by with mechanics coming on and off the plane, multiple false starts, and increasing levels of stress as the clock kept advancing. It was looking more and more like I was going to miss my first day of teaching in Riyadh as it was unlikely I’d get to my connecting flight in Germany.

I started sending profanity-laced messages to my wife about how much I hated United Airlines. I knew better – I should have flown Lufthansa! My anger kept building, and the frustration got worse each time they would start the engines and then shut them down within 15 seconds due to the mechanical problem.

I started frantically searching on my phone for alternative flights, but quickly saw that there was no other way to get to my destination on time to make my commitments. In fact, I couldn’t seem to find any open seats for the next several days given how full all the flights seemed to be.

“I can’t believe this is happening! There are classes with dozens of people scheduled to attend! How will I explain this? I hate this damn airline! Two million miles on United in the air and this is why I don’t fly them! I know better! I hate this airline! I’m so stupid!!!”

Aggggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!

My heart was racing.

After 30 minutes of exploring different routes to my destination navigating the small screen of my phone, I finally got lucky and was able to book another flight for the following day. I had a backup. In the worst case I’d be a day late, but at least I’d get there (assuming no additional problems like I was currently experiencing).

In the meantime, as we sat in our seats, the airline announced over the loudspeakers that it would be at least another 45 minutes before we would know more about the flight. At that moment reality was confirmed: I was not going to make my connection no matter what time the flight left.

They offered us the chance to deplane, and I took them up on it. I was the only passenger who got off, and I headed home for the evening prepared to try again the next day.

Well, at least I’d get to sleep in my own bed one more night.

The Uber Ride

Omar picked me up at SFO in his Toyota. After driving for about 10 minutes, I looked up and apologized for not being very talkative. I had been madly messaging on WhatsApp to my hosts and friends in Saudi about the change in plans. Everyone was gracious, but I felt horrible and couldn’t escape the feeling that I had let them down because of my stupid flight choice.

“Where were you going?” Omar asked.

“Saudi Arabia,” I replied.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“What’s taking you there?” he inquired.

“Some teaching and visiting some friends and former students,” I answered.

Noticing his name and accent I asked, “Where were you born?”

“Iraq.”

“Aaah. How long have you been in the United States?”

“12 years. I was an interpreter for the US Army.”

“Thank you for your help to our servicemen and women. Did the Army move you here after the war?”

“Yes. I was shot seven times and my commander had me evacuated by helicopter to Jordan. I was in the hospital for a year after having surgery. After that they brought me to the United States when I recovered.”

“Wow.”

“You should go to Baghdad and teach,” he said with a smile.

“I’m not so sure they’d want me there, but I bet the students would be great.”

He smiled even bigger.

“Did they bring your family to the United States, too?” I asked.

“Yes.  My wife and three daughters came,” Omar said as he gestured to three small toy figurines on the dashboard that represented his children.

“How old are they?”

“16, 14, and 12.” 

“Whoa. Tough ages.”

“Yeah.”

He hesitated and then said softly, “And we’re going through a divorce now. I haven’t seen my kids in two months.”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered not knowing what else to say.

As the car traveled down Highway 280 in the Bay Area, we sat in silence for about 30 seconds. I looked up into the rearview mirror at Omar’s face and noticed that he had tears on his cheeks. He quietly grabbed a tissue from a box of Kleenex on the passenger seat and wiped his eyes.

Handkerchiefs

I’ve carried a handkerchief in my back pocket since high school. I used to have allergies when I was younger, and handkerchiefs can be very helpful. My grandfather and father both carried them, and I started doing the same at a young age.

I think I may be the only man I know who still uses one.

As we got close to my house I looked up at Omar and said, “I know that many people don’t carry handkerchiefs anymore, but I find that they can be pretty helpful at times like these.”

As I reached into my back pocket I continued, “When I find myself in these situations, I do what old men do. I offer a handkerchief. Most people laugh at the absurdity of this happening in the twenty-first century, but sometimes it helps.”

I placed the white garment on the car’s center console next to the driver’s seat.

Omar wiped his eyes again.

“After what you’ve been through, I can’t possibly imagine what you are feeling. But I’ve found that all over the world most people are kind. As a species we do horrible things to each other, as you know all too well. But most humans think about the same things, and have the same worries, joys, and sorrows.”

Omar looked at me again in the mirror as he stopped the car in front of my house.

As I took my suitcase out of the back of the car, I shook his hand and said, “Thank you for the ride. Shukran.”

He smiled at me one last time.

I entered my home as he drove off to his next ride.

Grandfathers

I miss my grandfather. He was the best human I ever met. He taught me the importance of being kind to everybody. I don’t always succeed at modeling his behavior, but I aspire to be like him.

At the start of that Uber ride I was deep in my own head about the delayed flight, letting down the students, my anger at United Airlines, and the overall stress of international travel.

As I spoke with Omar, I realized how small those concerns were and that I had almost missed his gift to me: the opportunity to ensure another human felt seen and cared for.

I miss my grandfather. He taught both my father and me to carry handkerchiefs.

Am I bit old fashioned?

Absolutely.

But I’ll never forget that Uber ride.

And I’m grateful for that.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.