The perspective of travel, or fighting my pet peeves
Over two connecting flights, I was challenged to examine my preconceived notions about my seat mates (who couldn’t have been more different). As I landed on the island of Kos, another stopover, I found myself changed by these two encounters. I hope this story will inspire you to look at fellow travellers with increased kindness and empathy.
The guy in the seat next to me was on Facetime discussing his upcoming trip to Greece, where we were both heading. We were ready to jet off when an announcement explained our flight was grounded. I didn’t make out the reason for our delay, so distracting was my neighbor’s conversation.
I’d noticed my seatmate before setting foot on the plane. He happened to be one of two men that stood out to me at the front of our boarding queue because they were wearing the affluent man’s holiday uniform. Some of us dress for the flight (like I do), and some dress for the destination (them two): expensive-looking tan, matching shorts, white linen shirt, thick-rimmed tortoiseshell sunglasses and statement travel bag. For some reason, the footwear didn’t make an impression on me.
I tried to keep calm, but I noticed I’d started huffing and puffing in my seat.
It didn’t help that I could hear him make fun of the skipper of the boat (or yacht?) he (or his friends) had hired for their upcoming trip. Apparently, the man was so extraordinarily ugly my neighbour felt compelled to share cropped close-ups of pictures of the poor sailor. He went on and on and on about it.
I wanted to meditate. Ha! Fat chance of that happening by now.
I decided to cancel him, I popped on my oversized headphones and pushed the button switching on noise cancellation mode.
Phew.
You could rightly wonder why I was feeling so annoyed. After all, living in a society with other humans, we have to bear with each other’s loud phone convos and other assorted grievances. At least my guy was wearing earphones so I didn’t have to endure both sides of the conversation.
My reasons for feeling aggravated were twofold: I despise gossip, genuinely. That’s why no one ever shares any with me; I don’t spread tales. Kills the fun.
The second reason is that I find myself triggered when I hear people being belittled, especially over their appearance. This brings me back to high school mean girls commenting on my own looks, as well as mean women in my office who made several people’s lives miserable near me.
I proceeded to work for the remainder of the flight, as one does when one goes on holiday (too) early in the season and one runs their own business.
Let it be known that I did not throw even a cursory glance at my seatmate for the duration of the flight.
I may, or may not, have produced several long sighs while pondering on some delicate project feedback.
As we approached Athens, to my surprise, the stranger initiated a conversation with me. As I turned to address him, I was stunned to notice what I read as an expression of genuine kindness toward me. Looking back, I wonder if he felt sorry for me (I was probably the only person working on that flight). It’s possible.
Dropping my guard, we exchanged a few polite words: he was curious about my Apple Airpod Max - the noise cancelling device that had enabled me to 'cancel' him!
I felt ashamed. Foolish, and mean. How wrong of me to reduce this man to a single interaction (and not even an interaction with me).
We landed significantly late, so much so I had to leg it to make my connection. I excused myself and slipped through the crowd, headphones around my neck, desperately trying to get to gate B20 in time to make the next flight. Thankfully, it too was delayed.
Having been reminded to remain open (and to withhold judgment), I entertained a warm conversation with a Greek expat coming to visit her family while in line. I also chatted with newlyweds from Romania en route for their honeymoon, who shared dreamy pictures of their nuptials.
And then, as I settled into my seat, I exchanged greetings with the lady next to me, who let it slip that she had just been released from hospital.
A white bandage on her wrist, striking against her black skin, confirmed she’d been on a drip not long before.
I felt tired and in need of a nap, but instead of putting my noise-canceling headphones back on, I asked my new seatmate (who introduced herself as Pamela from Birmingham) if she felt like sharing what had happened to her.
What a story she proceeded to tell me! A crazy adventure, rather. I stared at her in disbelief, my eyes scanning her, as I took in her early decision (months back) NOT to go to the doctor to get herself checked out (mad woman, why did you not go to the doctor, my mind exploded!)
As it happens, Pamela had spent a week in a nearby hospital, recovering from kidney stones, renal colic and surgery after suffering from a life-threatening ruptured abdominal aneurysm!
Her condition had been so serious that she had been emergency airlifted from Kos, where she lives, and taken to Athens on a military jet.
She made jokes, digressed, and kept me mesmerised for an hour or so.
As it turns out, she was completely right NOT to go to the doctor back in March. I felt in awe of how she trusted herself and her ability to read her body throughout the three-months ordeal.
You must write your story, I exclaimed, by the time we were landing.
She had beaten me to this conclusion. She grinned, admitting that she felt hers was an important tale to tell, and she’d get to it promptly: she had a plan ready in mind.
I handed her my card and said: “We must stay in touch. I need to know you for a long time.”
I had been ‘Pamelarised’, as she liked to call it.
She said she’d probably sleep for the next couple of days but that she would contact me when she recovered.
We deboarded the flight together and I carried her two small bags, as she slowly made her way behind me, until we met her friend at the arrivals.
I hopped into my taxi, feeling grateful for seatmate number one for annoying me so much and then being so openly kind to me. Without this interaction, I would have probably either worked some more or settled for an audiobook, missing out on Pamela and her extraordinary story.
We all have our pet peeves, our triggers. We rub each other the wrong way, whether in the office, at home, or on holiday.
Hell, I am probably annoying someone while I type away this story on my iPad while on the beach.
But I hope that my travel story will be a reminder that occasionally, it’s worth looking beyond the annoyance, taking out the earphones, and opening up to the possibility of connection and being changed by another.
PS. I really wanted to tell you the FULL story that Pamela shared, but it's hers to tell. I'll make sure to share it far and wide when it's ready.
