I am packing (and re-packing and re-packing) to be ready for when I head out tomorrow to Pasadena, CA. I will be going to NASA JPL for JPLTweetup 2011! Very excited is an extreme understatement.
As I cleared my man-bag from the last trip, when I went to North Dakota via Minneapolis to attend my Uncle's memorial service, I found something that brought back a nice feeling. A napkin and a postcard from my flight on United to MSP. Here's what happened.
I was on the leg from SFO to MSP, a fairly long plane ride but manageable. I lucked out with a seat by the window (like a kid, I still love to look outside while flying) and a young Chinese fellow was sitting next to me. We were cordial seat mates, but not buddies. I was fine with occupying myself in my own little world, and trying to catch some sleep. Apparently, so was he. Then came the time in the flight when the flight attendants offer free drinks, and over-priced food if you're hungry. My seat mate was, and apparently had not understood that, unlike in the grand old days of flying and on most international flights, the meal they were offering was not part of the fare. I knew this and had stashed some snack food to tide me over, in case I got hungry. He wasn't so prepared. He asked what was available, and he selected the last item they mentioned, a "Thai Chicken Wrap". I think that his English was not strong enough to get every nuance of the transaction, and I suspect part of the reason he chose the "Thai Chicken Wrap" was it was the last thing the Flight Attendant had said, so it was easy to remember and repeat. The Flight Attendant took the plastic wrapped, pre-fab "Thai Chicken Wrap" package from it's compartment, added a few napkins, and handed it to him.
This is where it was apparent that there had been a communication break down. He said thank you, and tore open the plastic package to get to the food inside. All the time ignoring the Flight Attendant who pleasantly said, "That will be $9.95 please." She waited patiently, or as patiently as you can while standing in the aisle of a jet with several passengers staring, waiting their turn for their free drink. She repeated her request with her hand stretched out, but not intrusively, to my seat mate. He noticed, and paused in his efforts at getting at the food. "I'm sorry, it's $9.95 for that." The other Flight Attendant, on the other end of the service cart, chimed in, "There is no meal, like there is on international flights." It was not clear if she was talking to my seat mate or the other Flight Attendant.
Sitting there, watching surreptitiously with furtive glances so as not to add to the embarrassment that was sure to hit my seat mate, I felt a surge of... empathy? I guess that was it, mixed with the selfish understanding that if this young man's experience got worse, the left over aura of what I was feeling now would make for a very long flight, indeed. Still, I watched on, thinking that I understood what he was going through, but wanting to allow him to navigate his way past this stranger-in-a-strange-land moment. I have had those opportunities myself, and have made it through unscathed. Mostly. Still, I felt bad for him.
One low watt, refrigerator light bulb went off over his head and he reached for his wallet. This is when it was confirmed that his English skills were about as good as my Spanish. Probably better, but that's not the point. He took some cash out, large bills, if I remember. However, they had made it clear several times, as they announced the "Refreshment Cart Rules" that they could NOT accept cash. Only credit cards. I'm sure he was befuddled, as I could see by the look on his face, when she held up her hand, palm facing him, and said again, "No cash, sorry. Only credit card. Visa, Mastercard, American Express, or Discover." He had this look on his face like, "Who doesn't take CASH?" But he had understood, at the mention of the list of acceptable cards. So, he tucked the cash back, and drew out a Visa card. I could see the Chinese characters on it and the Smart Chip implanted in it, as he handed it over. His shoulders relaxed, just a bit. He had made it past this embarrassing moment without too much blushing.
Then, the Flight Attendant was handing him the card back, shaking her head. "It's not working, I'm sorry." The other Flight Attendant, the one who must have been more seasoned, said, "Some of the foreign credit cards don't work here." (I resisted the urge to preach about how the American banks are behind the curve in technology, and it was the Airline's equipment which was at fault, as it could not work with the more advanced Smart Chip enabled credit card used overseas.)
That's when I couldn't stand to leave my seat mate dangling in the breeze any longer. I said, "Here..." as I reached for my wallet (no easy feat given that my large frame was filling in the cramped airline seats to a just snug fit) and handed the Flight Attendant my Visa card. She hesitated, but I encouraged her to please take it. Immediately the 20 something Chinese man, my stranger-in-a-strange-land seat mate, took a fifty out and tried to give it to me. I thought, fifty bucks for a $9.95 "Thai Chicken Wrap"? No way! What I said was, no thank you. "Please just help the next person you have the opportunity to help, that would be great." I did my best to make sure it was not a big deal for me. I could get by without that $9.95, pfft, no trouble. Part of me was thinking about how I was saving up to fly to Australia in November to see my son, who I have not seen in far too long. But I was also thinking of the generosity which allowed me to be sitting on that plane just then. I had almost begged out of going to attend my Uncles service with my Father because of the cost and because I knew that my Sister had been able to get airfare to attend, so that there would be at least one of the kids there to help out. My Brother, who has worked hard to build his business, was going to attend, but could not as his lovely wife had just had surgery and he needed to stay home to take care of her and his Daughter for a bit. My Brother paid for my airfare there and back, saying that he had budgeted for it before the surgery happened and that since he couldn't go, I should. He said that Uncle Dick was a good guy and deserved a good send off.
My paying for the "Thai Chicken Wrap" was, after all, mostly selfish. Done for reasons which were largely for my benefit, not my seat mate's. I was the one who felt good for having helped a stranger. I was the one who had paid off a small portion of the karmic debt I owed for having accepted my generous Brother's offer to pay the way. I was the one who would not have to sit next to the grumpy seat mate, listening to his stomach growl all the way to Minneapolis. Plus, I had given him the task to "pay it forward", so he did not get a free lunch after all.
With all that behind us, my seat mate finished off the repast, and we got down to the serious task of napping. We were both tired after the ordeal, apparently, as we both nodded off. He was truly asleep, while I was relaxing with my eyes closed, listening to my music on my headphones. Then, I felt a tap on my arm. I opened my eyes and the Flight Attendant from earlier was trying to hand me the napkin. The very same one I pulled out of my man-bag earlier, remember? At first I thought, Why is she wanting to serve me more juice while I was relaxing? Then I looked at the writing that was on the napkin. It said:
"We'd like to credit you for your neighbor's purchase. May I see your credit card, please?"
I protested quietly, not wanting my seat mate to wake and see this. But the Flight Attendant quietly insisted, so I dug out my wallet a second time and handed her the card. I thought, well, it's okay if they want to reimburse me. Maybe it will make THEM feel good, like I did when I paid for the meal. Moments later, she came back, and gave me a deja vu moment. She was handing the Visa card back and shaking her head, whispering that it wouldn't work. They couldn't make it credit my account back. I said that it was fine. After all, I had paid for it without the expectation that I would see that $9.95 again, so I was no worse off for her trying. She looked disappointed.
A short time later, she was back, handing my the other item I had removed from my man-bag: the postcard. It was a card that read at the top, "Please Accept Our Apology" and went on to instruct me how I could go on line later to enter the code printed there, and find out what token of appreciation they had in store for me. I smiled, and shrugged, as I accepted the card from the Flight Attendant. I stashed into my man-bag.
So, I hope, the Flight Attendant had maybe been touched by my picking up the tab. Maybe my seat mate had a slightly better impression of Americans during his trip. All I know is that, for my selfish act, I had a little tear in my eye. It felt good.
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