View From Row 15

I work for a company that’s home base is located in a rural town – I say town because it feels like a town but really it is like 100,000 people – 45,000 of which work for one company and 20,000 work for another.  Everyone knows everyone and I swear to you, everyone is related to everyone.  There are parts of the “city” I like and for sure remind me of Nebraska – the walk-up Dairy Queen that is only open seasonally, people waving for no reason at all, pot holes everywhere… there is a sense of nostalgia when I am there.   

One of the downsides is that recently due to a policy change; we no longer can fly into a main international airport that sits just a short 1 hour and 15 minute drive away.  Instead, we have to layover for more time than it would take for me to drive, check-in and watch at least one episode of Bachelor in Paradise (guilty pleasure) and then continue on to the world’s shortest flight into the least hustley and bustley airport .  The airport is so compact that if you stand at the front entrance you can talk to the ticket counter, rental car agent, anyone waiting at baggage claim and the TSA agents with less than a shout.  There are 4 gates, 1 restaurant – which is a generous description of the Skateland-esq snack bar and “gift shop”.  I kid you not, it is a couple dusty enclosed shelves under the cash register of only random shot glasses and like two key chains that I am pretty sure they got at a garage sale.  And then there is the TSA experience – they literally frisk everyone, I think out of boredom.  Never have I been so thankful for TSA Pre-check.  The airports only saving grace is….nothing. Literally I can’t think of anything.

The flight is never good. It is rough in good weather; it is terrible in choppy weather and winter is a hope and a prayer you even get out without a cancellation.  The flight is so short, there is no time to serve drinks and I am pretty sure the flight attendants are just volunteers they round up because there are a total of less than 40 seats and no luggage can fit in the overhead compartment, so basically they are glorified greeters.   I mean that with no disrespectful – as I was once, in a moment of panic about my future, an aspiring flight attendant.  If I could get paid to fly back and forth,  only required to be pleasant at my job for like a maximum of 30 minutes at a time and read a book, sign me up for regional airline life! 

Alright, apologies for the rant, but it was a roundabout set-up of the mindset you might have when boarding the planes that arrive and depart from this airport.  Even for the most experienced flyers, the teeny planes seem too close to the ground at any given moment during the flight.  I think sometimes, when I fly this route, what if the wind catches us just right?   We are flying so low, I am definitely not going to have time to inflate my life vest, find my marked exits and try to push past the lady getting her purse out from under the seat before we crash.  Because you know in an emergency, there is always going to be one asshole trying to take their stuff with them even though we are just working on getting out of there alive.  I hope to never find out first hand though if there is truly someone that dumb.

The last flight I was on departing from said-airport I was sitting next to a girl about my age, we hit a nice bump of turbulence and the next thing I knew someone was death gripping my arm. She apologized immediately but definitely didn’t let go for a significant amount of time.  I knew from experience with my boss, a nervous flyer, the best way to cope with a fearful passenger is to distract them.  Little did Andrea, my seat mate, know, she was seated next to the ultimate chatterbox. With a short 20 minute flight, I started my monologue and Q&A session with Andrea. We shockingly had a lot in common and somehow I ended up committing to helping make connections for her to find a new apartment.  But besides strengthening my non-existent real estate skills, it made me realize how grateful I was that for whatever reason, in my crazy head of worries, flying never seems to be something I get concerned about, which is shocking considering I spend a lot of time worrying about absurd things and coming up with contingency plans for circumstances that more than likely will never ever, ever happen – in fact, it’s my job.  I am not saying that facetiously, I am paid to plan for the plan and then plan for all other options that could possibly ever happen.

All of this to say, I have never actually taken the time to be thankful for not being a fearful flyer.  Besides the occasional thought of “what if” or refusing to look out the window on a transatlantic flights because all you see is water, it’s never occurred to me to be scared.  But as I think about it, fear of flying is not that crazy.  You have no control over the situation, you’re confined to a small space with strangers, you’re soaring through the air at great heights and you don’t really know where those beverage cart ice cubes have been.  There are probably way more reasons to be scared of flying than a lot of other irrational fears that people have.  The idea of fearless flying made me think: with all these factors that impact the experience of flying, making it miserable for some people and not even phasing others, isn’t that a little bit like our lives? What do we do to live fearlessly, when we are a scared flyer and “turbulence” of our day to day occurs?

I read a study that focused on “Worrying Better”.  We, on average, spend one hour and 50 minutes a day worrying.  THAT IS SO MUCH.  And out of all that stuff we worry about, 85% of those things never happen.  THAT IS SO LITTLE.  That means that in an average life span, we are wasting MONTHS of our lives focusing on stuff that isn’t even an issue.  Now I know, this is an average, so for example I take the surplus of my best friend Mandi’s leftover worry. I would bet she spends maybe like 15 minutes a day actively stewing on something, maybe a little bit more now that she is a new mom.  I am jealous and I wish I could be more like that, take things as they come. In fact, that is one of the ways I have found to move towards a more worry-free life – surround yourself with good people who teach you those lessons through their actions.  So shout out to those people in my life that have showed me, overthinking isn’t worth wasting that time. That hour and 50 minutes could go to patio cocktails and inane gossip and reality television recaps, which sounds much better in my book.

But I do realize that no matter how dumb it seems to anyone else, there are things that worry us and no amount of rationalization can curb it.  You have to take steps to change it.  Surround yourself with good people, find something that makes you realize you don’t have to do it all – praying is my go to but meditation, journaling, whatever. And take action.  That is how View from Row 15 came to be (and a lot of encouragement from Mary Wagoner!!).   Putting things I think and feel into a medium I can’t really control is scary to me.  I never want to be misinterpreted or not articulate something correctly on the page, when it makes sense in my brain.  And by sharing (and oversharing) my thoughts, my feelings, my writing skills – it is overwhelming but I can’t say I hate it!  It has taught me that again, fears sometimes seem bigger than they are.  Except fear of horses, horses are literally as big and scary as they seem. But checking off “horse-lover” from the “Shit That Scares Me” list is a few more bullet points down.  So thanks for joining me on this journey of scary 🙂

Lessons from my flight out of a glorified DMV:

1.        Never downgrade a person’s fear.  Support them in the journey as they reconcile it.  And if it is you worrying to no end, take the time to make a change.  But trust me; I have realized sometimes (always) it’s bigger in your head than it is in reality.

2.       Just because an airport totes itself as “international” that does not mean that there is duty-free shopping available or even a place to buy gum….

On the morning of Thanksgiving 2015, I set out to check an item off of my bucket list: Decorate the White House for the Holiday season.  Wait what?? You heard me right.  Shout out to all the other nerds who enjoy year after year the HGTV special that tours the White House and shows off the backbreaking work of the volunteers who set into motion the holiday season in Washington DC.  Being the go-getter that I am, I knew one day this was something I was going to do. So after many unsuccessful attempts, I FINALLY was selected for one of the 90 coveted spots, out of thousands of applicants, to trek to Washington D.C. to begin the week long process of preparing “America’s House” (I used that in my application letter – really hammed it up for the judges).  This whole experience could, and may be, another post on its own – not because it has anything to do with air travel but basically it was one of my favorite experiences I have ever gotten a chance to be a part of.  But let’s get back to the good stuff…

It’s early morning, my nerves are taking over and I am in fully anxiety mode getting to the airport for my pre-dawn flight.  There is always a certain hustle and bustle of the holidays in an airport – the crisp smell of brewing coffee as people grab-n-go to catch their flights,  the families running through the airport while one grumpy child straggles behind, promising to make it a terrible travel day for anyone they encounter – it’s the holidays at its finest.  I got to my gate, ready to board my  flight to Austin, make a quick connection and off to DC for the time of my life.  We were meeting at the White House that evening with all the other volunteers, gathering for our assignments and hoping to get some cool swag, ( I got a “Christmas at the White House apron, no big deal), so missing my flight and connection was non-negotiable.

As I sat down in my seat, there was a certain feeling of festivity in the air. People were in an unusually good mood, possibly heading to celebrate with family and friends or just jazzed about the long weekend on the horizon but my guess was mostly the fact that on holidays, certain airlines serve FREE DRINKS.  Oh you heard me right, nothing screams Pilgrim and Indian Brunch Buffet like Bloody Mary’s en route to Austin! 

As I sat down, I was next to a very friendly women, to be honest I can’t remember her name (did I mention free drinks for Thanksgiving?). She was probably close to my mom’s age.  As we settled in and our drinks were poured, we made surface level conversation. She mentioned she was going to see family but quickly changed the subject, asking where I was heading.  Of course, I nerded out and told her what I was up to. She had a million questions and promised to record the show and look for me. 

After a little liquid courage and maybe realizing I was a decent listening ear that she would never see again, she proceed to tell me that she was heading to Texas to see her dying mother. This would be the last holiday they spent together. We talked about the difficulties of dementia with the added complications of cancer, we talked about how it was a weird sense of sadness but relief that she would no longer have to live in a state of confusion and by the end of our impromptu therapy session, we were both crying, commiserating over the fact that life was precious and we were both so grateful to have the people we do in our lives.  I gave her a squeeze, knowing I would never see her again or find out how her visit was but knowing I would say an extra prayer for her for peace and comfort as she navigated this new chapter of her life.

We had been a little bit delayed getting out of Phoenix, I thought I would have more time in Austin to grab some food, however with saying my good-byes to my new friend and trying to find my gate, I ended up doing the ultimate walk of shame – the airport run – to make my flight on time.  Making it to a half-full plane, I plopped down in an aisle seat just in time for take off.

A couple minutes into the flight, I started to feel not great. Not drunk, not throw-up sick, just not good in a “I know this isn’t normal but not really sure why”.  I was removing layers of clothes as I was profusely sweating and mentally berating myself for missing the gym the last couple weekish-months, that made a mild airport run send me into full cardiac arrest. But to no avail, I just couldn’t shake the feeling.

I thought the next logical thing to do would be splash some water on my face and take a couple deep breaths.  Good in theory but bad in execution because about 5 seconds and 2 aisles after standing up, the place went black….you guessed it folks, I passed out ON A PLANE – in the aisle, dead center, on that dirty carpet, hindering beverage service, full blown out cold. 

When I came to, there was a doctor, a flight attendant and a bunch of people staring at me asking my basic medical history and if I needed them to land the plane.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  Yeah let’s land this entire plane of people in like Dayton, Ohio on Thanksgiving, no one would hate me at all.  When the doctor asked if I knew what the date was, I told her Thanksgiving and when they asked where we were going I told them D.C. – I decided it best to leave out, I was going to the White House. I figured that might raise some red flags about my cognitive abilities.  I was dehydrated and much to my surprise, the doctor did not consider my breakfast of bloody Mary’s and plane peanuts substantial or…how did she phrase it?….mildly irresponsible.  With that, I went back to my seat, enjoyed as many ginger ales as I could consume and remained completely consciousness the rest of the flight.  To say I was embarrassed was an understatement but it made for a good dinner party story or travel blog post 🙂

Lessons Learned from Thanksgiving-palooza 2015:

1. You never know what kind of baggage people are carrying – yes, pun intended.  Talking to strangers can be therapeutic, for you and them.  The fact that a women could pour her heart out, cry with a stranger and share meant probably as much to me as it did to her.  I love to be able to be someone that people trust to be vulnerable with. If me, a stranger on a plane, was the person that she could be herself with, share her fears and then leave and be strong for her family, I am glad I could be that support to her, and a drinking buddy.  I have been on the reverse side, sharing and word vomiting and there is something very cathartic about being able to share with no judgement, no backstory, no bias.  Just two people connecting. 
2. Eat breakfast. I would say don’t drink but what fun is that?  Also, if you do pass out on the floor of a plane, ask them for a blanket because the whole 20 minutes they made me lay there until my pupils went back to their normal size, I was driving my heart rate up thinking of how many sick feet have walked this carpet that my hair was touching.  Trivial yes, but guys, I was going to the White House!

The irony of this title is I do carry a sharpie, always, multiple colors usually and at least another form of writing utensil. In fact, before posting this, I got asked twice today if I had one…which is odd and I took as a sign to post this story, even though it takes me making myself vulnerable to a new level. This story is a lesson in being prepared but more so, making sure confidence is your second carry on item.

Let me take you back to 2010 – it all started on an American Airlines flight to Minneapolis. I was traveling for work and my boss was joining me on this trip. You see, my boss and I have a unique (READ AS: no boundaries) relationship.  I started working with her at the impressionable age of 20 as her summer intern and essentially grew up under her wing. I would say she is like my mom but she has made that clear on many occasions that although this is biologically possible, she much prefer to be referred to as my “cool” older sister.  She is on the never ending quest to find me a boyfriend, mostly because she would like to quit her job and nanny for me (again no boundaries).

One more important thing to know about my boss Pam is that she is not a huge fan of flying. Although over the years, she has gotten tremendously better, she still has no shame in proclaiming she’s all about a little pre-flight prescription to take the edge off. 

Back to the story  – as the plane had almost completely boarded, I found myself in the middle seat, with Pam on the aisle and an empty window seat to my left.  SCORE.  This was one of the last flights out for the night, so I was essentially hitting the seating jackpot.  As everyone had settled in, on to the plane came a very, very attractive gentleman.  Knowing how this typically goes, I was assured he was walking down the aisle to go sit next to his smoking hot girlfriend who had gotten an earlier boarding group.  But low and behold, the American Airlines seating gods were on my side friends because as Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, later to be known as Sam, walks down the aisle, he stops at my row and says, “I think that’s my seat”.  SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

I stand up to let our new seat mate take his window seat as my boss elbows me, with absolutely no discretion, and I know her match making wheels were already spinning. Now believe it or not, I am a fairly shy person. I can talk to anyone but when there is any vulnerability or stake in the game, I am a pretty big chicken.  In true Pam fashion, she leans over and asks where he is traveling – duh Pam, this is a last flight out, direct flight… we are ALLLL going to Minneapolis.  With barely a breath in between she blurts out “so do you have a girlfriend”.  Way to ease into that one Pam, real smooth.   Completely caught off guard he says “No..I don’t really have time for one” – which is oddly enough, my go to line as well. I 1000% have time for a boyfriend, it is just an easier response than the Public Service Announcement I feel the need to give to married people about Dating Post-College with Apps and different standards – again, for another blog post.

Pam shrugs it off as a lost cause and no sooner than she can lose interest he says “Actually that’s not true, I just don’t have one, the other is just easier to say”.  MATCH MADE IN TARMAC HEAVEN.  So leaning on Pam to continue what she started, I look over to her…she has a dazed look and passes out. Literally, out cold, medication fully kicked in leaving me and this  stranger who all I know is he is dreamy and has no girlfriend, to fend for ourselves. It was a blessing and a curse because we knew what this looked like – the world’s most inadvertent set-up.

Sam ended up being as charming as he was handsome. We talked books, we talked dating, we talked the downfall of our society thanks to social media.  We found out that we lived in the same small apartment complex on the same floor for an overlapping period of 3 months the summer before. He told me about his family, we talked travel, work, friends. It was easy and it was fun and it felt more comfortable than a lot of dates I had gone on in recent history.  We attempted to play Words with Friends (it was the height of it’s coolness guys, don’t judge) but due to a shawty internet connection (damnit 2010 plane technology get your shit together) it didn’t connect, leaving us to yet another conversation that made me swoon even more.

As Pam was regaining consciousness and we were beginning our final decent, dream boat Sam realized he left his work credit card in the airpot bar.  Melt my heart, a man that loves an airport bar, could he get any better!? 

In typical girly fashion I had approximately 15 minutes to make sure this wasn’t the last time I heard from him.  As I plotted in my seat with literally zero ideas (guys, I never claimed to have a lot of game!) Sam stewed over his corporate card  woes and what he was going to do.  As soon as we landed, he got on the phone to cancel his credit card.  Knowing this was make or break time, I was hoping that this would be a quick call but apparently, customer service at Bank of Who-knows was taking their sweet ass time and RUINING MY LIFE by keeping Sam on hold.  As row after row was deplaning and my dreams of Sam proposing (obviously the next step in this equation) were slipping away I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I would channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw and give him my number oh so coyly on my plane ticket, like I do this all the time.  I have done this approximately never times.  All a good plan in theory until I realize we are the next aisle to leave AND I DON’T HAVE A PEN.  I had nine different scents of hand sanitizer and approximately eighteen varieties of snack packs but I couldn’t find a writing utensil to save my life. The clock was ticking, he was talking to customer service agents, he was being transferred, they were checking action on his card – oh my GOD, I was thinking, I will pay the balance if you just let this man just get off the phone!  So as Sam left the aisle, still on the phone, my heart sank a little, consoling myself with at least the memory of an enjoyable flight. I retrieved my overhead bag and left the plane. 

But low and behold, who was standing there waiting on the jet bridge, STILL ON HOLD (seriously, can I get a comment card for this credit card company!?) was Sam.  It was the makings of a missed connection in a movie, we were blocking the jet way, he was on the phone, my boss was anxiously heading down the jet bridge and we were like two ships passing, wanting to connect but it was too much too quick.  He grabbed my hand and said “it was really great to meet you, I guess I will talk to you…” and stammered a little and blurted out “on Words With Friends?”…. OMG hand to forehead.  I think as soon as he said it he knew how dorky it was. I definitely knew how dorky it was and didn’t even care.  But again due to American Airlines in-flight internet trying to derail fate, the internet never connected in flight, our names were never saved and I never heard from Dream Boat Sam.  

Lessons from Dream Boat Sam:

1.  Whether Sam was the love of my life or just a great guy that was able to hold good conversation (a rarity these days BTW) and a gentleman, I should have put my pride and fear aside.  Who cares if I seemed weird waiting and tell him “you were fun to chat with, call me next time you are in Phoenix”.  It wouldn’t have been odd at all, but being young and thinking things happen like they do in the movies, I was blinded by stupidity and let a chance slip away.  Fear of rejection, even from a stranger, is funny that way. I would have been the only one that knew, it wouldn’t have mattered and only something good could have come out of it, even if it was just a lesson.  Regret and “what if” is way worse than no phone call.

1.   Bring a damn sharpie!!

What’s that readers?? You were hoping for another insightful post with a heavy emphasis on flight delays and disappointment?!  You are in luck! A huge thanks to Southwest this week for giving me the opportunity to provide that to you…. I am not sure how well sarcasm is conveyed via writing, but heads up, I am laying it on thick.

I was off to DC this week for a work conference, rolled into a little sightseeing in my absolute favorite city.  I enjoyed a flawless ride from Phoenix to Chicago next to a delightful 70 year old women named Judy.  I prefer to call her Overachiever Judy because after just retiring from her job as a national biohazard engineer and scientists for the government, she jumped right into an accelerated nursing program to complete her RN degree in one year and is currently studying for her Nurse Practitioner test she will be taking next month.  If there’s anyone that I could’ve sat next to that could make me realize how dumb I sound when I think I am hopelessly stuck in a career path at 33, it was Judy for Manchester.  

Upon arriving to Chicago, boarding the plane and finding my seat, I settled in.  I noticed the flight attendants started to get a little antsy, pacing the aisles up and down, like you know they know something but they aren’t telling you. And then the announcement

“Folks, just a couple minutes, we are just finishing some paperwork”. 

First of all, “finishing the paperwork” is equivalent to “running behind, leaving in ten minutes, just finishing getting ready” when you are meeting someone.  No one is ever ten minutes away from being ready when they say that and I personally believe no one is actually ever doing said “paperwork”.  It is just an ambiguous answer that can be provided that no one can really question.  Like what do I know about departure paperwork?? Not enough to call bull shit on the Captain, that is for sure.

As we sat at the gate, I assumed the delay was for something mechanical, as it was a bright sunny Chicago AM.  Ahh yes, the roulette of mechanical problems.  Will we land on the 10 minute quick fix or the dreaded deplane, switch gates and be delayed longer than it takes for the airport Starbucks to give you the most basic drink? It’s a gamble – a  fun, completely out of your control, psuedo-hostage situation, at the mercy of the mechanic – gamble.  

Now please don’t get lost in the technical terminology of the plane issue but it seems the problem was there was something wrong with a box somewhere on the plane that needed to be taken out to put in another box that does something that makes us fly…Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate the pilots meticulous surveying to assure our safe arrival, however as I was sitting and waiting and thinking (my iPad was already dead, that was all that was left to do) I thought, what if we ran our bodies like pilots run planes?  What if every morning we did an “all systems check” to make sure we were ready to take on the journey that lay ahead – mentally, emotionally physically?  I kind of like the idea.  I mean, I could do without the outer body check for dents and flaws or “weighing of the cargo” for sure, but I like the idea of taking a breathe and moving through our mental “pre-flight checklist” to make sure I am at my best before bopping out of bed.  It’s kind of a great mental image – scanning your mind, scanning your schedule, scanning your goals – and putting in place what needs to happen to be at your most successful and efficient throughout the day.  Sometimes we are in such a hurry to get moving we fail to take a breather and do a daily inventory.  My challenge to myself this week is before I get out of bed, before I grab for my phone to check what earth shattering instagram feed updates have occurred in the last 7 hours and start my day – focus on being grateful, confident and intentional about what lies ahead.  

Lessons from Judy and the Southwest Travel Crew:

1. You are never too old to try something new. JUDY IS 70! Even if it isn’t a career change, you aren’t ever too old to jump into something you have a passion for. Except for Miss America, I think that ship has sailed for me. More to come in my follow-up post “Pageant Life and Other Shattered Dreams” – just kidding mom 🙂
2. You are in control of your day.  Even when things happen that weren’t part of the initial plan, you are in control of how you react. By starting out setting an intention and have “all systems in check” you are giving yourself a better chance to adapt and react to whatever comes your way.

The beauty of travel for a planner like myself is that the best laid plans can so easily be foiled for absolutely no reason.  On paper, things look flawless  and timely, just waiting to be riddled with an unexpected storm in Budapest to throw off your flight 10,000 miles away or the little bulb the size of a nightlight above the galley goes on the fritz.  SIDE NOTE- that was a real thing that happened, we had to wait over 2 hours for it to be fixed. That’s like the equivalent of your car window not rolling down – inconvenient yes, but you can still function, in my opinion…which is probably why I am getting zero job offers from airline mechanic companies.  

Like the true over-committer that I am, there was the opportunity to meet family and friends for a couple days for a quick trip before heading to Jacksonville, Florida for a work event.  I had planned accordingly, making sure I could take the last flight out, sleep a minimum amount of hours to function as a pseudo-normal adult and make it to my event on time.  The Delta Sky gods had a different plan.  A reason unbeknownst to anyone, our flight was delayed and delayed and essentially ended up getting me stuck in Atlanta after 1am and no chance of getting to Jacksonville in time for my main reason for traveling there. I went to bed exhausted, knowing I had a mere 4 hours until I had to be back at the airport.  Disappointed that I had failed to plan for a failed plan, I went to bed annoyed at myself and tired.  

VERY early the next morning, I plopped down in Seat 15E, next to a man in pilot attire, who I assumed was either going or coming to work.  Turns out he had just come off of a 9 hour flight from Honolulu and was commuting home to Jacksonville.  While making small talk, I asked him if he preferred flying the plane to riding and he confirmed it was absolutely torture for him to be a passenger. He said even when he and his family will travel, flying is his least favorite means because it is such an adjustment to ride.  He made a comment that struck me beyond its obvious meaning

“For us pilots, when our families want to go on vacation, we just want more than anything to be home.  We go and go and go and sometimes it is just nice to be.”

I don’t know what it was about the way he said it but it immediately made me think about the way we, as a culture, live. Sometimes, we are trying to “vacation” through life, living for the next “big thing” to happen.  Someone wiser than I said “Happiness is not a destination” so by looking for these next destinations, like babies, marriage, graduation, new jobs, we are missing out on the joys of being “home” – comfortable where we are and who we are and relaxing in the ease of that.  There is huge accomplishment and pleasure in those big destinations and I am not saying there is anything bad about being jazzed or wanting that stuff. I do too! It is just that sometimes, we spend so much time rushing to “the next stop” and being perpetually busy and miss the simple things that fill us up as we hurry through life.  I am guilty of this more than I like to admit. For a planner like me, it is hard to not want an itinerary, timeline or general idea of when and how things are going to happen.  Or worse, plan it out and be disappointed when it doesn’t pan out how “it should be”.  Which SIDE NOTE #2 –  I paid to learn this learn this lesson, so consider this my free piece of advice for you today – take the word “should” out of your vocabulary, it will save you a lot of unnecessary anxiety and disappointment – thanks Stephanie for that tidbit. 

But just like a travel delay, when there is that pause, rather than stressing about getting to your next stop, enjoy what you’ve been given.  With airport delays, you might get a chance to call a friend you have been playing phone tag with or start that book you haven’t had a chance to open. And same with a “delay” in life, you might not have your own kids yet but you get to spoil the heck out of others with limited responsibilities #auntlife.  Or if you aren’t working your dream job and struggling with what is next, those pauses might provide the clarity and motivation to figure out what it is you really want and make it happen.  We can’t always take these circumstances as a “cancelled flight”, the plane is just not ready for departure to that next destination… YET.  Our galley light is off, if you will… just needs some fine-tuning and then we will be ready to roll.

Sometimes those delays in our travel are there for a reason, both literally and figuratively. 

Take Aways from Captain Silver Fox:

1. Always talk to a pilot if you have the chance to sit next to them because they never have a boring story.  Or at least you can ask them a bunch of dumb questions like you are 5 years old, including but not limited to “Have you ever almost crashed?” and “has your plane been struck by lightening?” – you were thinking it too I know….
2. Be content in where you are.  Not to the point of complacency but enjoy what you have and what you are doing in that moment and make it your own.  This one is more of a reminder than a lesson I have mastered, trust me.  Who knows, the reason we might be “delayed” in somewhere we want to be is there is a lot of turbulence up ahead that we are avoiding and waiting for those skies to clear before we soar.

Welcome to View From Row 15!  I will be your hostess to the skies, Rachel. Just a midwest girl, living the desert life in Arizona and exploring our world one boarding pass at a time.

Cat’s out of the bag – Row 15 is not First Class… I know, I know I am going to lose a large conglomerate of readers who were expecting this to be a guide to luxury travel but I can assure you, you would have been gone faster than I could say “ma’am the wheels of your overhead bag need to face outwards”.

I am not your average jet setter.  Actually jet setter seems so much more bougie than what I am. I should say, “I am not your average Economy passenger” (Economy Plus on a good day, humble brag…).  I am someone who travels for pleasure at any opportunity, but these days, my work takes me away more often.   Before you profile me, I am not the girl hitting up a meeting on one coast only to have to run to catch another flight, taking calls in the terminal promising a lot of “reaching out” and “looping in” … you know, like a real business person.  I have my early mornings, some ridiculous cross country turn around trips and back-to-back travel, but I am not running through airports in stilettos or “circling back” to anyone. And don’t we all know what that office jargon really means?? In my reality “circling back” means this – I will do it when I finish my airport Chik-Fil-A and have five seconds to recharge my computer from depleting its battery on the last leg of the flight watching last night’s Real Housewives of New York (the best franchise of all cities and not open for discussion).

Now I know what you are thinking – cool, you travel, so do about 50 billion other people, what’s so special? Well, thank you so much for asking, kind reader.  We are friends now, so I can tell you something right?  I am that person on a plane… you know THAT person, chatty pants McGee.  I do, however, like to think I possess the ability to read social cues and know when someone isn’t into it, so don’t judge me yet. I come by this fate, of being a talker, honestly. I am a combination of my dad, the one-liner extraordinaire that somehow has a connection to everyone and my mom, the only person you want on your team for Trivial Pursuit because she knows just a little about a lot that she can carry on a conversation with anyone about pretty much anything.  I understand that not everyone is there to make a new friend and I am respectful of that. Somedays, I am not either.  But in one way or another, conversations have a tendency to start organically with strangers sitting next to me.  For me, compared to a lot of fliers, I have found that the adventure of getting to a destination is half the fun… did someone just nail it with a cheesy tie-in for comparing airline travel in relation to our “journey” in life!?

And that is where a View From Row 15 comes in – a snap shot of our culture sharing stories, teaching lessons, reinstating the lost art of conversations with strangers that has been tossed aside.  We have so many opportunities in a day to interact with people, it doesn’t have to be meaningful, long drawn out, life changing interactions. It is a smile, it is small talk while you wait for the bus, it is commiserating over the fact that it is mind boggling why people don’t put their carts away in parking lots (NOTE: Topic for a later post – I feel strongly about this too). 

This blog isn’t me giving advice – oh hellz no. I am no expert and don’t plan to pretend to be. I consider myself more of a conduit of an idea that I hope sparks interest and joy to look at who you are encountering and how that impacts your life.  The opportunity to encounter people from all over the world, carrying who knows what baggage (as long as it is only one personal item and one roller bag) gives you a gift you sometimes don’t even know you are getting.   

What I promise in these posts are a few laughs, a few lessons but most of all a look at people and their stories and a take away that might be deeper than the pocket on the back of those airlines seats where I inevitably lose something or touch someone else’ chewed gum every time.  Am I right??  

Please fasten your seatbelts, put your tray tables in their upright and locked positions and Row 15 is ready for take off!