What An Emergency Landing Taught Me About Marriage

Last week I was on my way to Ashland Oregon to give three speeches (including the keynote at the Southern Oregon Author’s Fair) and do a couple media appearances, including one on the regional NPR station.

About an hour into my flight, the seat-belt sign beeped and the pilot came on the intercom. He said that there was a strong smell of fuel in the cockpit and that we would be making an emergency landing in Roanoke, Virginia. He sounded calm and somewhat nonchalant. I believe that’s why passengers didn’t erupt in a chorus of screams and Hail Marys. It was a windy day, so the plane thumped and swerved as it approached the airport. All the while the cabin was silent. Other than the two passengers who were nervously cracking redneck jokes, no one said a word.

We landed safely. That’s when I learned that the airline wanted to put us all on a bus and drive us 3.5 hours to Charlotte where folks with connections would no doubt spend the night and then fly out the following morning. If I had agreed to that plan, I would have missed two of my speeches and the NPR interview.

So I found myself charming a gate agent. She initially told me that all of the flights out of Roanoke were booked and that the bus was my only option. I calmly told her that I had three speeches and a media interview to do. I explained that people were counting on me, and that I didn’t want to let them down. I said, “It doesn’t matter to me if you send me back to New York or somewhere else to make this happen. It doesn’t matter to me if I end up flying all night long. It doesn’t matter to me if I have to take four or five different flights. If you could get me to Oregon before 9 a.m. tomorrow morning, I would greatly appreciate it.” I said it with a huge smile, the kindest eye contact I could muster, and with great big love vibes streaming toward her from my heart.

Soon she was consulting with another gate agent for help. Then her boss got pulled in, as special permission would be needed to switch me over to other carriers who could better get me to my destination. Phone calls were made. Vouchers and permissions were secured. Magic was performed. She and others calmly and diligently worked my case for nearly an hour as other passengers waited in line behind me. All the while I said “thank you” and “thanks so much for working this hard” and “it really means a lot to me that you are pulling all of these strings.”

When all was said and done, I had boarding passes to Atlanta and then to San Francisco and then to Oregon. I would miss my NPR interview by an hour, but I would land just in time for the first speech if I went straight to the university from the airport.

The rest of my flights were uneventful. My speeches all went great, and I had a fantastic time visiting with two great friends.

My flight home from Oregon left at 6 am. I was tired from my speaking, networking, socializing and interviews—and I was groggy from waking at 4 am. As the flights were boarding, however, I was startled from my fog by a man who was shouting, “This is unacceptable! I am flying with an 8 year old and a 3 year old and I am going to miss my connection because of you people. This is unacceptable! It couldn’t get any worse than this!”

I noticed his boys. Their eyes were on the floor. They were shrinking into themselves. They were physically trying to make themselves as small as possible. I noticed the gate agent. She was rolling her eyes. I could see the annoyance course through her. She quipped, “You are not going to miss your connection. You have plenty of time sir,” and then she focused on other tasks.

I watched the other passengers. This area of the airport was quite crowded as three flights were all simultaneously boarding through the same door. Yet this man had a wide swath of open space around him. Everyone was staying as far away from him as they could get.

I sensed that as angry as this father was, he was also scared. I sensed that his shouting fit was a failed attempt to protect his children from discomfort.

Yet, in an effort to force the gate attendants to pay attention to him and ensure his timely arrival at his destination, he ended up getting the opposite result. Rather than help him, they ignored him instead.

As I watched him, a few things occurred to me. First, I have been that man before. Second, I have not only been that man in the airport, I’ve also been that man in my marriage.

There have been times that, in an attempt to be heard, I’ve done the one thing that would cause my husband (or a gate agent or a friend or a clerk) to shrink away and ignore me. I’ve shouted. I’ve bullied. I’ve made it all about me.

As I walked by the angry man and I boarded my flight, it occurred to me that I would be a lot more likely to be heard and to get what I want if I treated everyone—especially my husband—the same way I treated that gate agent in Roanoke.

It’s not easy to stay calm and compassionate when life isn’t going one’s way. That’s true. Still, I think I’m going to make a pledge to err on the side of compassion instead of the side of negativity whenever I need to be assertive and confront someone. I am going to smile. I am going to be polite. I am going to say, “thank you,” and I am going to send that person my love.

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Tagged as: communication tips