Flight Friends

the value of connection

I’ve been on seven flights in the last two months.

And those plane rides got me thinking about one in particular I took almost a year ago.

I was headed to NYC—a very quick flight from Buffalo. I had plans to make a dent in the book I’d brought.

Shortly after taking my window seat, a woman scooted in next to me.

She said hello, and offered a Clorox wipe to clean my tray table and seat back. I (obviously) had some on hand, but took her up on this invitation.

In my personal experience, I have found this to almost always be true of seat companions: if, upon sitting, they have not already inserted their headphones and/or they offer more than a single word of greeting, they are almost definitely interested in chatting. (With a strong possibility the conversation lasts the entire duration of the flight.)

This was the case that day.

After we had wiped COVID from every nearby surface, I noticed she was scrolling through some photos of a baby. Her granddaughter, she confirmed.

We started talking, and within ten minutes I was ugly crying to a woman I had just met.

I was just as surprised by this as you are.

She shared more photos of the little girl and spoke lovingly about her two sons, but something felt off in the way she was talking. I asked about her oldest.

She told me of his battle with brain cancer. How he beat it. How he maybe started driving a bit too soon. How he got into a seemingly harmless car accident.

How he passed away from that accident at the age of 33, after everything. How she hadn’t made it to the hospital in time to see him.

It had been three years since his passing, she said.

“This is the first Christmas I finally feel like decorating.”

Her husband was seated right across the aisle. He didn’t once look over at the two women crying opposite him.

“He deals with it in his own way, but it helps me to talk about it.”

This woman was still grieving, processing. She needed to talk. To connect.

I couldn’t wrap my head around what she had been through, or how openly she shared it with a complete stranger.

What if I had just decided to read my book?

That thought still bothers me to this day, because it’s a choice I still make.

How much are we missing out on when we choose not to engage?

It goes beyond strangers on planes.

Conversations with friends, colleagues. Family.

How often do we not ask the hard questions, or truly listen to the responses?

There is something weighing on all of us, no matter how big or small.

It’s easier to stay quiet. To avoid. It’s uncomfortable to do anything else.

But there’s a lot of value to be found in sharing. Vulnerability. Connection.

I’ve been making more of an effort to do this lately. Especially with the people closest to me.

I gave my seatmate a long hug after we deplaned.

I have thought about her many times in the past year, and each time serves as an invitation to ask myself how I can be more open and vulnerable. How I can show up for others who are brave enough to do the same.

So, as we approach the holidays—a season that evokes so much for so many reasons—maybe we can all open up a bit more.

And, on your next flight, maybe take an interest in who’s seated next to you. 🫶🏻