A Small Token of Appreciation.
I want to share a short story that I wrote a while back, one that I have always liked because it was such a moving experience for me. As you will read below, it's not anything crazy or life-changing; rather, it captures a small, poignant moment on a flight from Johannesburg to New York.
A Small Token of Appreciation
The worst part of any flight occurs as soon as you step on the plane and must walk through the first and business class sections to squeeze your way back into cattle class. The smugness of the people already seated in the front sections is palpable, what with their free copies of The Financial Times and fancy bowl of warm nuts, sipping champagne and silently smirking with their eyes at the unfortunate souls moving past them. I know this is what they do because I’ve had the privilege on occasion to fly business class on an international flight, and that is what I do. But alas, on this 15-hour journey from Johannesburg to New York, with a one-hour touchdown in Senegal, it was not to be. I resigned to my fate and plodded rearwards to suffer with the unwashed masses.
As I approached my seat, 65D, I held on to a small flicker of hope that I would be greeted with an empty seat next to me, or if the travel gods were in an especially charitable mood, to bestow upon me the holy grail of economy class flying, an entire row to myself! They, however, in their all-knowing and benevolent wisdom, felt it not necessary to grant me this most humble wish on this particular flight. There were two African gentlemen sitting in the two middle seats next to mine, and to their right, a middle-aged white man. Great, I thought, a full row. After getting my e-reader and dispatching my bag in the overhead compartment above, I plopped into my seat and tried not to think about the fact that I would be sitting upright in this tiny, cramped seat for almost an entire day.
It was at that precise moment that I began to take closer notice of the two guys sitting next to me. Catching their eyes as they watched me settle in, I could tell that both were sick. Not a “I have a cold” sick, but rather a “I don’t have much time left on Earth” sick. The man immediately next to me was pock-marked and had scabs and scars tattooed across his arms. Rheumatism clouded both of their bloodshot eyes, and they were too skinny for their size to be considered normal weight. I then noticed that they watched me as I locked into my seatbelt, and I quickly figured out that they didn’t know how to buckle in. So, I smiled and said, “I can help you with that,” and proceeded to buckle both of their seatbelts for them. They both smiled, grateful for the small assistance. I smiled back. Crossing my legs as best I could, I swiped my e-reader open and began catching up on the latest issue of The Economist.
We got off the ground with no problems. The dinner and drink service came and went. I finished the first of what would be three movies. About halfway through the second movie, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the man two seats over had covered his head with a blanket and was presumably sleeping, but the man next to me was just sitting there, staring straight ahead. No book or magazine, no video or music. I couldn’t fathom that this is what he wanted to do, so I leaned in and asked if I could help with selecting a movie or TV show.
“Yes!” he cracked a big smile.
“What do you want to watch?” I asked.
“Action,” he said.
I found The Wolverine and hit play. I plugged in his headset and showed him how to work the volume.
“Thank you,” he said, and I could see his eyes were starting to water. “I am sick.”
“I know,” I said, immediately regretting having said it. “I hope you feel better soon,” and immediately regretted saying that as well.
He smiled again and settled into the movie. I returned to mine. After this interaction, he felt comfortable asking me for things, so for the next couple of hours I helped him select another movie and worked with one of the flight attendants to get him an extra food ration, some lukewarm apple juice and additional blankets. At one point when all the lights had gone out, he asked to get up to go to the bathroom. I watched him enter and saw that he did not close the latch, so I got up and stood guard outside the door. The stewardess walked by and gave me a puzzled look.
“He’s in there but didn’t lock the door.” I whispered.
“Aww,” she said, “you are so sweet.”
When he came out he was surprised to see me, but happy as well because he did not know how to flush the toilet. I pointed to the little blue dot to the side of sink and said you just need to push that. He did so and thanked me.
“I am sick,” he said. Not wanting to repeat my earlier mistake, I just nodded and helped him back to his seat.
As we approached Dakar, his final destination, I helped him fill out his immigration forms.
“What is your occupation?” I asked.
“Cell shop owner.”
“What was your reason for travel?”
“Health.”
Handing him back his passport and documents, he began thanking me over and over as the plane pulled up to the terminal. I said that it was nothing, I was happy to help. His sick eyes began to tear up again. He asked me for my number and said that he would call me. I gave it to him and said I would wait on it. Walking down the aisle he kept looking back at me, saying thank you and promising to call. It was a little embarrassing because the other passengers were now looking at me as well. The flight attendants were also getting off here, to be replaced with a fresh crew, and the stewardess who had helped throughout the flight approached me with a bottle of South African Cabernet Sauvignon.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Me and the other flight attendants just wanted to thank you for helping that man throughout the flight.”
“It was nothing,” I said, fully blushing.
“It was more than nothing,” she said. “Please, take it as a small token of our appreciation.”
“Thank you,” I said, then took my seat with the bottle in my lap. I felt the tears swelling in my eyes and I tried hard to suppress them. She smiled and disappeared down the aisle with the rest of her team. I looked out the window to my left and saw the approaching dawn begin to wipe away the starry night sky.