Another Sunday afternoon spent at Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. Another long weekend. The conference went well, my talk was well-attended, good contacts made. I was exhausted though. I looked forward to the last leg of my flight home; maybe catch a nap on the way.
I boarded the small regional jet, found my window seat, closed my eyes and started to drift off. Loud cursing jolted me awake. A young man who looked to be about 20 was being moved from a wheelchair into the aisle seat in the row ahead of me. A woman, who I assumed was his mother, was trying to calm him. She sat in the seat directly in front of me. The young man, now seated, moaned, and then cursed loudly. The woman grabbed his arm and told him to be quiet or the plane crew would remove both of them from the plane.
The woman sat down in the seat in front of me. She turned her face towards the window and began to cry softly. The young man kept repeating "I'm sorry!" Then another bout of crude language erupted. It was obvious the young man was physically and mentally disabled. Autism? Tourette Syndrome? Perhaps some accident occurred during his younger years? I wasn't sure, but I had seen similar children at autism conferences.
His mother appeared to be young but her face showed the strain of dealing with her son. He was not small, but she was. I wondered about her husband. Where was he? Didn't make the trip or had they divorced? Unfortunately, many marriages don't stand the strain of dealing with a special needs child.
The young man slowly drifted off to sleep but not until after several more episodes of cursing followed by repeated apologies. Each time his mother would try to calm him. Her shoulders would shake as she tried to muffle her sobs. I wanted to do something, anything to make her feel better. But we were on a plane which today is akin to being on a bus. Don't make eye contact. Don't bother the person next to you if their body language is telling you "Don't approach!"
What if I just reached up and patted her shoulder? Tell her that she would be OK? How arrogant and stupid would I appear? I can't begin to realize what her life is like or the hell she goes through every day. To tell her that everything would be fine rings hollow, I have no way of knowing how her or her son's life will turn out.
So I sit. It's not a long flight. Wheels touch down, phones come back to life, our own concerns await us. We file off the plane while she sits with her son, hand on his arm. They will leave the plane last, airline policy for those needing wheelchairs. Everyone had heard the young man's words during the flight. We glance discreetly as we pass, some out of curiosity, some perhaps feeling sympathy, guilt, or relief that her life is not theirs.
The walk through the airport and parking lot is long. I find my truck, get in and drive to the credit card gate. As I wait to exit, I glance in the rearview mirror. For a second I thought I saw a woman pushing a wheelchair across the lot. The attendant distracts me by asking if I want a receipt. I look in the mirror again but see no one.
The gate rises. I drive home.
-- Devin Houston is the president/CEO of Houston Enzymes. Send comments or questions to [email protected]. The opinions expressed are those of the author.
Community on 07/19/2017