I was ready for departure. My seatbelt was fastened. My seatback and tray table were in their upright and locked positions. My backpack was stowed underneath the seat in front of me. My electronics were turned off.
I was ready to go.
The pocket in front of me held a paperback novel, my iPod, noise-reduction headphones, sleep goggles, and a bottle of water. My backpack held snacks, and my laptop.
I was prepared.
My shoes were already off, and I was wearing comfy socks. As was my custom (read here), I was wearing my BYU t-shirt. For pants I was wearing some loose, comfortable khakis.
I was comfortable.
The reason I needed to be ready, prepared, and comfortable is that I was on my way to Africa – and it is a long trip. The flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg is the third-longest commercial flight in operation.
17 hours. No layovers, no changing planes. 17 hours in one seat. Luckily I got an aisle seat, but it was still coach.
The lady sitting next to me in the center seat was not as prepared as I was. She was trying to get her things put away and fasten her seatbelt with one hand. The other hand held a large orange juice that she had brought on board from the McDonalds in the concourse.
She was flustered, so I offered her the use of my tray table while she got her things together. She set the orange juice down, and finished up. She sat back in her seat and sighed. We introduced each other and exchanged pleasantries. If you are going to be sitting next to someone for 17 hours, it is wise to get off to a good start. She was a bit older than me, but not elderly, and she was friendly.
She noticed her orange juice was still on my tray table and thanked me. Somehow as she reached for it, she caught her sleeve on the corner of the table – it flipped it up – just enough to dump the entire contents of the orange juice cup into my lap. All of it.
Unable to jump up, or do anything quickly, I could feel the orange juice seep into my pants, and beneath. I glanced over at the lady – she was aghast. She sat there motionless with her hand covering her mouth. I felt bad for her.
I picked up the cup, put up my tray table, and undid my seatbelt. As I stood up, I expected to see a puddle of juice on my seat – but there wasn’t one. Apparently my khakis and underwear were very absorbent. I looked over at the lady again and she was still frozen in place with tears in her eyes. I told her “It’s OK, it was an accident. I’m going to go see if I can get this cleaned up.”
As I went to the rear of the plane to the bathroom, the aisle was blocked by a very stern flight attendant. “Sir, you are going have to return to your seat – we are about ready to take off.”
“Look,” I said, motioning to my crotch. I looked like a 3 year-old that had had an accident. She understood. “Oh no! Go ahead, but you only have a minute. Hurry.”
I went into the bathroom grabbed as many paper towels as I could and dropped my pants. I soaked up what I could (not much) and rinsed off what I could, (not much) in the brief time before the flight attendant started knocking and telling me it was time for take-off.
I pulled up my pants, rinsed my hands and went back to my seat. This was going to be a long, sticky flight.
The orange juice lady had regained some composure, and when I sat down she immediately apologized again. I told her it was OK.
Then she said something that really caught me off guard. “Thank you so much for not getting mad at me.” I reiterated that I knew it was an accident, and that I was fine.
As we began to taxi, I mulled over what she had said. It was true. I had not gotten angry with her – it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Things had happened so quickly that I really hadn’t had time.
Then another thought crossed my mind, and I chuckled to myself, “If that had been one of my kids, or my wife, I would have let them have it.”
Then I stopped chuckling – because it was true: Had it been my wife, or one of my kids – the people that I love most in this life – I would have unloaded on them. Yet this complete stranger got a pass.
The flight was going to be long.
And sticky.
And pensive.
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I’m just tenderhearted enough to tear up at this post. First, because I have children who have unfortunately been on the receiving end of my frustration and I’d like to have better control of my emotions. Second, because you were flying coach for 17 hours.
This is one of my all-time favorite quotes from C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity about the process of becoming true Christians:
“We begin to notice, besides our particular sinful acts, our sinfulness; begin to be alarmed not only about what we do, but about what we are. This may sound rather difficult, so I will try to make it clear from my own case. When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected: I was caught off my guard; I had not time to collect myself. Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards to those particular acts: they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate and premeditated. On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.”
I am completely intrigued as to what comes next. Thanks.
I have two things to say about your comment: 1) That is an amazing quote from CS Lewis, thanks for sharing it. It makes me 2) want to know who you are!
My mom has mentioned to me before how we can have infinite patience and understanding with a stranger, yet so little of both with loved ones. More than once it has made me change my reaction (sometimes even before I react). Each time I have caught myself and reacted more “appropriately” has been a much more loving interaction with my children that I truly treasure. It’s a wonderful lesson that I need to practice again and again.
I was a server 20+ years ago and dumped a tray of water glasses onto a female attorney on recess from court. In her silk suit. I just knew I was fired. But this woman stood (shocked, of course, by the ice water shower) and said, “Thank you! I’ve been bugging my husband for months to buy me a new silk suit, and now he HAS to!”
I have long believed that she made that up on the spot, and have long desired the grace that it took to have that be my immediate response.
Thanks for the reminder!
She must have been REALLY pretty…just guessing.
Great story! Gotta say, though, that I saw it comin’ – the orange juice in the lap…not the candid introspection, which I very much admire. Found you via Georgia and I’m thinkin’ I’ll be back.
Sheri Mossi
Yes yes, a marvelous story. But I really just want to know about Africa!! I got to go to Kenya a ear ago to visit my folks on their mission there and loved it. I hope you enjoy your trip as much as I loved mine! Post pictures and stories!!
Thanks Rebecca, but sorry. There are huge swaths of my life that are not part of this blog – Africa is one of them. Maybe someday… but thanks for asking!
Wow. Those are good things to think about. I really like your thoughts about the incident. I’m sure that lady was extremely grateful for your kindness.
Whitney
mormon-teen.blogspot.com
If your pants were THAT saturated, maybe when you were in the lavatory you could have squeezed some into your mouth….you know, for that LONG flight ahead……just sayin’! LOL. Great story. Great reflections!
Funny how quickly one can lose respect for someone. 😉
You are sooo right
Great post! Guilty…..working on it. : )
When I was at BYU I lived with 3 girls that were wonderful… almost like sisters. One Sunday one of them was making cookies for the girls she visit taught. The rest of us wanted a little taste as well so she told us that we could have some of the ‘ugly’ cookies–the ones that were a little smushed or flat, broken, etc. Then she stopped. “Why is it that we give our best to everyone else but then give those whom we love our ‘ugly cookies’?” she asked. And then she offered us some of her “pretty cookies”. That lesson has stuck with me (although I don’t always live it) and your orange juice story reminded me of that today. Thank you!
Ouch! I needed that.
Hmmm. I’ve been thinking lately, whenever I have had cross words with another adult that I will mentally say “don’t talk to me like a child”.
And suddenly that has stopped me up short, because why should a child get spoken to in a way that makes an adult feel like a fool or incompetent? Don’t we all deserve respect, regardless of our age?
This ties into those thoughts, I think. We need to show our “nearest and dearest” the same kind of courtesy that we would show to strangers.
Thanks for the story.
O My Word… Hilarious!!! I want to go to SA!!!
This describes me.
Though I’m not sure I would have picked up on the lesson, like you did.
Goes to show how comfortable we are with strangers or friends, versus how comfy we are with our family to treat them the way we do.
Sad.
That reminds me of a saying I’ve heard. “Treat your family like company and your company like family.”
How true sometime we treat strangers better then family. food for thought and prayers!
I remember a story one of the councilors in our single’s told us. His wife was driving his truck and backed it into something. He immediately went into a tirade. “You love your truck more than me.” She said between sobs. That stopped him in his tracks.
Such a good post. Made my husband read it, too.
Point taken.
I suspect I would have done the same thing with the stranger and unloaded on my kids. Definitely with the kids, and maybe I’d go a bit more gently with my wife but I would have been upset. A good post to read on a Sunday morning.
Really great. I love it.