On my flight returning from Ketchikan to Alaska on September 19, I am asked:
“So where’s home?”
A very kind gentleman asked from seat 22C. We had a seat between us, which he commented was lucky.
“Oh my family lives in Georgia, but I don’t really have a set home.”
“Where are you headed, then?”
“I’m going to Guatemala with the Peace Corps.” (I often debate about whether or not to say ‘Peace Corps.’ If you don’t, they usually ask you what you are doing there, and then you say ‘Volunteering,’ and then they say “Oh like Peace Corps?” So really, I’m just saving us both verbal petroleum.)
“Oh very interesting. So were you just visiting Alaska?”
“I worked here for the summer, worked on the docks in Ketchikan.”
“Oh- well that is quite a switch then!”
“Yes it really is!” I said, in friendly bewilderment.
You know, I must seem so scattered. No wonder people look at me and think “I wish I could do that.” By the itinerary, it would seem I have not a care in the world. Believe me, I have more cares than anyone should calculate in luggage.
We had more friendly, bubblegum flight conversation. Nothing earth-shattering. He seemed very pleased with life, and very kind. He was chipper and conversational but not annoying. The perfect balance is rarely established on airplanes. Either they ignore you or you want to hand them a doggie bag for their word vomit.
“Where is home for you?” I ask.
“Eagle River, just north of Juneau.”
“Oh okay!”
“I used to live in Ketchikan, I worked for the Forest Service for 30 years.”
“Wow. Yes I have several friends who work for the forest service now. They are home 6 days and gone for 8.”
He said “Oh yes it used to be 10 on and 4 off but they changed it to give folks more of a break.” (If I remember what he said correctly.)
The flight attendants wheel their way down the aisle. I smell food. I know they don’t serve complimentary meals on this flight, but I see them passing out shiny foil tins and am filled with false hope.
He orders a glass of red and he also receives a foil tin of food. It smells good. It smells like food. I didn’t plan for dinner before this flight, I just had my usual latte. Eventually I think he noticed I was side-eyeing his meal. He said “Would you like any food or anything?” I smiled and said “No thank you I’m fine.”
I was genuinely touched. If I had said yes, I believe this man would have retrieved his credit card and let me order whatever I wanted. He seemed like a lovely, kind dad. He seemed like a good person, I just wanted to thank him for being good.
“Sir. Thank you for being such a good person.” The thought didn’t occur to me to say it to him at the time, but I don’t think he has any idea how good he is.
He is visiting his daughter in Atlanta, she works for Scottish Rite. He can’t remember the name of the suburb she lives in. I rattled off 29 without blinking but he couldn’t remember. Atlanta is suburbia. There are 119 million suburbs in it. Please don’t check my facts.
Hours pass, I am plugging away on the computer. The plane is descending.
“I was hoping it would thunderstorm while I was here but it’s nothing but nice weather until I leave.” He says.
“Oh yes I know I’ve missed that, we get great thunderstorms in the South.” I respond.
He said “Well we got them all the time growing up in Indiana, but I haven’t been in a thunderstorm in 30 odd years.”
I thought: Someday I will say that about something. Maybe next year, about the things I haven’t done since I was one. I could say “Breastfeeding. Man I haven’t done that in 30 years.”
He said “We’ll see if Alaska keeps their promise.”
I said “What?”
He said “They have a policy about getting the luggage out within 20 minutes of landing.”
I said “I don’t know if that will happen in Atlanta. Everyone has an opinion about this airport, you’ll find.”
He said: “Well I’ve flown to most cities with Alaska, they always follow the policy.”
We deplane. I don’t see him again.
The luggage takes more than 20 minutes.
“We’ll see if Alaska keeps their promise..”
If Alaska promised me anything, I hope Alaska keeps it.
