Turbulent Times

I took a flight today. You know, on an airplane. This fact is nothing new to me. I have likely taken hundreds of flights at this point, some good and some not so great. Today’s flight was all those things swaddled into one. To avoid burying the punch line, I will tell you that the genesis of this chapter was a crying baby. A baby who cried the entire two hours in the air, as well as the time leading up to takeoff. It was not a pleasant or cute cry. It was the opposite of both those words, and maybe even a little worse. Let me add that it also seemed unusually warm on the plane as well. I am not stating that as fact, it just felt that way. Like when the room seems to warm up significantly when it is your turn to speak to a group. This warmth did not help things for anyone involved. My wife, who was sitting by my side the entire trip, seemed a little frustrated by all the racket. She is not easy to frustrate.

To make matters worse, it was a small plane due to the relative shortness of the flight. Small plane equals close quarters for the passengers. All passengers, even the crying ones. You could feel the tension in the air and taste it in your ginger ale. The close vicinity amplified the sound by (what seemed to be) four or five orders of magnitude. The augmented sound in return made the close quarters seem closer still. It was a never-ending cycle of noise and proximity. It was interesting to see other people’s reactions to the crying. You could see the gambit of emotions—frustration, sadness, angst, anger, empathy, sympathy, even laughter. I find it interesting to see how people react in uncomfortable situations, and today’s event did not disappoint. So there was a positive side to this assault on the senses. Being stuck on an airplane and close to the culprit forced me to think about what was happening and consider the meaning behind it. I had to consider how it was impacting me and how I was choosing to react, or not react, to it.

If I were 23 years old, I would have been upset for those two hours of flight time. The feeling would likely have lasted for much longer after we landed. I would have complained to myself, as if someone was listening, as if complaining would do anything at all. I would have complained so strongly to myself that I would have worked myself up into a frenzy of sorts. I would have stewed on this crying baby for the rest of the ruined day. I would have clearly blamed the parents. I would have questioned why they would think it was a good idea to bring such a young baby onto a flight filled with unsuspecting travelers. I would have then wondered if the parents were even attempting to calm the child. Deep down, I would have known that it was not actually anyone’s fault, but it would have taken me a while to come to that conclusion.

My first instinct at 39 was to feel bad for the parents. It was such an obviously uncomfortable situation for them, and I know it had to be excruciating. I felt pain for them, and for the baby as well. While some of the passengers may have felt as if this was one of their worst flights, there was little doubt that it was, in fact, the worst of the worst for the parents. You could feel the judgment coming from the exit rows and the scorn from business class. At 39, I was more apt to judge the judgers. One in particular stood out. A guy who kept turning his head around to look back at the young family in hopes that his continual glances might distract the infant from its cries. He had no success in this strategy except to make me have some strange disdain for him. Weird how that works. The pain that these parents—and this poor infant—were feeling made me actually appreciate the flight. Compared to their current state of affairs, I had it very easy. I listened to music and was fairly relaxed for those two hours. After all, I was sitting in a metal tube flying across the country through the air. That fact made me realize how insignificant the minor annoyance of a crying baby was.

This was my main takeaway from today’s events. How having empathy for others can make you appreciate the things you have in life. The struggles of those parents today made me realize how easy my trip was in comparison. I felt what they were going through, and I wish there was a way I could have helped make it a little better for them and the baby. Seeing the negative reactions of fellow passengers also made me grateful. It made me grateful to finally be at a place in life where I am on the other side. I did not get upset or angry at those parents—it was actually quite the opposite. This 39 thing can be good at times, at most times. These kinds of feelings allow you to live with a clearer head, a clearer conscience. I am sure there were many others on the plane who felt this way but did not consider the meaning and importance of it. There were also those angry passengers who will never think about how that negative mindset impacts other areas of their life. Little things like today make me appreciate 39. I hope everybody can get to a similar point at some time in their lives if they haven’t already. And to all those parents of crying babies on airplanes, your next drink is on me.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)